


Fidelity Won

by Ohhhmyloki



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Loki Wins, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Lemon, Loki (Marvel) Lives, Loki - Freeform, Loki lemon, Loki smut, POV Loki (Marvel), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Romance, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-21 14:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15559506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohhhmyloki/pseuds/Ohhhmyloki
Summary: Thanos is coming, and someone has been using time manipulation to obscure Earth's possible futures. The only person who can help the Avengers now is the Goddess of Fidelity, but she's more interested in recruiting the God of Mischief to help her rescue a friend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some chapters include Infinity War Spoilers!

Loki heard the impact half a mile underground, where SHIELD kept its worst prisoners—of which, at this time, there was only one. It was the first time he’d heard anything beyond the footsteps of the guards and the click of the outer door when someone came to visit him. They’d put a ward on his cell so he couldn’t project himself outside it—just like the prisons at home on Asgard.

It was still strange to think that Asgard was gone. At his own hand.

A hollow feeling rose every time he remembered. He pushed it away in favor of sharper, more comprehensible feelings: Anger. Resentment. Rage.

All he could do was wait, and wonder, and quietly seethe. Thor had been to see him every day since they’d put him away. That was a change. A nice one, if he was being honest with himself. But still, he was bitter. To be locked away again, helpless, scorned. And of course, they’d taken the tesseract. So once again he was powerless. Waiting for the judgment of a race of petty little children. Punishment that was utterly beneath him.

_I should have stayed on Sakaar._

The walls were still shuddering slightly when his guards received the call. He watched through the heavy tempered glass—several inches thick, with narrow vents near the center, all of it reinforced with titanium netting—as the two heavily armed men simultaneously put finger to ear and listened.

One of them looked at him and barked, “Stay behind the line.”

Loki looked down at the painted white border six feet from the glass. He was standing well behind it already.

“They’re watching you up in central,” the guard continued. “You know what happens if you step over.”

They’d threatened him with this before: the kill switch. If he misbehaved or tried to escape, someone in the central monitoring room would push a button and the floor and walls of his cell would be electrified to the tune of 500,000 volts. They seemed to believe it would kill him. He didn’t dissuade them from the assumption.

Loki raised his hands and smiled mockingly at the guard who had spoken. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Both guards turned in unison and hustled out of the room.

 _Interesting_. He hadn’t been alone since the day they’d locked him up.  _Something very troubling must be going on up there._

SHEILD and the beloved Avengers were operating at a fraction of their previous manpower. Thor and Banner were the only two on site. Oh, and the little spy, Romanoff. Apparently, this was an “all hands on deck” situation.

He folded his hands behind his back and looked up at the blank steel ceiling. It shook again, this time with a smaller, shorter impact. A low, not-so-distant rumble followed by a series of similar reports, in rapid succession. Explosives of some kind.

_Very troubling indeed._

Loki smiled.

_How delightful._

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later, the guards returned, led by Natasha Romanoff, and with a number of extras in tow. Loki caught a glimpse of blonde hair, a flash of purple, and pale, slender hands in cuffs. They put a woman in the cell opposite his and Natasha stood watching as the guard beside her removed the prisoner’s cuffs. The door slid seamlessly shut at the guard stepped back.

“You’ll be comfortable here until we can question you,” Natasha said.

The woman in the cell turned and replied, “Comfortable might be a stretch.”

Loki couldn’t see her clearly past the wall of black-clad guards, but her voice was clear and soft. Intelligent.

Natasha’s head tilted slightly to one side, and he could imagine quite clearly the mocking little smile that was her only response.

The spy turned away and the guards followed her out, leaving Loki alone with his new cellmate.

She was watching them go with a tiny little smile perched on her lips. Her hair was indeed blonde—or mostly. It was dark at the roots and vibrant purple at the tips, all of it wavy, cut in a neat, asymmetrical slash just below her jawline, shorter on one side than the other. 

Her physicality startled him momentarily—the tall, angular, athletic build seemed totally at odds with that calm, clever voice. Her legs were long and sleekly muscular. So was the rest of her, as a matter of fact.

And then the door clicked shut behind the last guard and she looked up at him in his cell directly across. Her eyes were wide and slightly tilted, a brilliant amber color, accentuated by the thick dark line of her lashes.

“Hi,” she said, as though they were meeting in a completely mundane setting rather than a prison.

“Hello.”

Her gaze flicked down his body and came back up so quickly he almost missed it. 

“What are you in for?” And then her lips curved again, just slightly, and her eyes held a tiny hint of laughter. 

Being the God of Mischief, Loki could not help but respond to that look. He smiled, flashing teeth, heartlessly amused by his own admission: “Attempting to enslave the human race.”

Her brows rose in obvious–-and gratifying–-surprise, and then she treated his person to a much slower, more careful assessment. It was a purely dispassionate look. He’d seen it before. Worn it. She was trying to place him on her person threat scale. _How much of a danger are you to me?_

By the end of it, he had no idea where he’d landed. Her expression told him nothing. 

Finally, meeting his gaze again, she dipped her head to one side. “Hm.” 

The smile had not left her eyes.

 _That’s new,_  he thought, with growing interest.  _Just who the hell_ are you _?_

And then she started looking around her cell—the metal walls, the vented glass; visually tracing the seams where they came together as though looking for a weakness.

“I take it you’re the reason for all the excitement upstairs,” he said, watching her.

She flashed him a grin by way of confirmation, and then walked to the low metal cot against the far wall, nudging it with her sleek brown boot. It was securely bolted to the floor.

“You won’t find an easy means of escape.”

“I guess not,” she replied, trailing her hand along the wall, knocking lightly. “The humans have really come up in the universe, it seems. They’ve made great technological leaps since last I was here.” Turning back to him, she took in his cell in its entirety. “The warding on your cell, in particular, is pretty impressive.”

His surprise must have shown. She smiled again, an oddly friendly expression. “I’ll wager you could break it if you really tried.”

So, she had magical abilities. And she wasn’t human. Interesting.

“Not without potentially killing myself,” he admitted.

She looked at him thoughtfully. Or, not at him, per se, but into him, as though reading beyond the visible. “You’ve got a lot of source energy about you.” 

There was more there, behind her words, behind her eyes. Knowledge. Intent. Loki felt a trickle of real excitement. A sense of anticipation.

“I am Loki, Crowned Prince of Asgard.” 

Again, her brows rose, this time sharply. “Asgard,” she echoed, that hint of amusement suddenly gone.

“You know it?”

Her gaze slid away. “I know of it.”

Loki let the silence stretch, trying to read her. Titillated by the mystery of her.

Her gaze returned to him, guarded this time, measuring. “You’re a God, then?”

He gave her a slow, wicked smile. “God of Mischief, at your service.” He swept her mocking little bow.

There was a beat of silence while she stood there looking at him speculatively. Then she repeated, simply, “Mischief.” 

And that little light of humor come back into her eyes.

 

* * *

 

“And you are?”

God, that voice was incredible. Deep and velvety. Sexy. A little threatening. Utterly unnerving.

Sig looked up at the Asgardian in the cell across from hers. “Depends on who you ask,” she replied evasively.

His blue-green eyes narrowed. He leaned forward slightly, hands clasped behind his back. Wavy black hair spilled over one broad shoulder. “I asked you.”

 _Well played, Sig_. She chastised herself silently. “It’s not important.”

One black brow arched sardonically. What a damned aristocrat he was. She could see it in every angle of his body.

Sighing, she gave him a pointed look, letting her gaze flick slightly upward.  _Cameras_.

He frowned.

He knew she was planning something. She’d let him see it in her eyes. He was clever, she’d known that immediately. Calculated. Observant. It was there in his face. The expressive lips. The feline way he held his body. But mostly it was the eyes. Sharp with intellect. Penetrating.

Beautiful, really.

_Just play along, pretty boy. I might even help you out._

She saw the moment he decided to do it. He rocked back slightly on his heels, watching her expectantly.

The outer door clicked open. Loki’s gaze shifted toward the sound.

_Here we go…_

A large man with dark skin strode into the room. With the eyepatch and the black leather trench-coat, he looked like some kind of intergalactic pirate Captain. He was human though. Not a trace of magic in his aura. Behind him came the woman from before, plus a large, muscular blonde man in Asgard armor.

_Great, another one._

Sig felt the buzz of elemental magic, smelled a whiff of ozone as they approached. The Asgardian fairly crackled with power, but it was Pirate-Captain who took the lead.

“It seems you’ve come to our humble planet in search of something,” he said without preamble. “You might have chosen a friendlier approach.”

“I’m in a bit of a hurry,” she replied. And then, looking between Pirate-Captain and the big Asgardian, “Are eye-patches a new trend on Earth these days?”

He ignored that. “You told Natasha you came for your friend.”

“I did. I’d appreciate it if you gave her back. We’ll be out of your hair directly. No damage done.”

Sig fought not to laugh at his look of incredulity. “ _No damage_ done _?_ You crashed your ship into our lawn and tore up half an acre of the grounds, then you fired on our front door and nearly killed half a dozen of my guards.”

“Nearly being key term, here.”

He glowered. “Your friend is a wanted criminal. An  _intergalactic_ criminal. She’s charged with genocide and the destruction of no less than a four planets.”

“Wow, good records. I didn’t realize the Confederation had such a long memory. Most of that stuff happened thousands of years ago.”

“People tend not to forget mass genocide and planetary destruction,” he said dryly.

“You’d be surprised.”

He gave her a look of complete consternation.

“The records are wrong, though,” Sig went on reasonably. “Mad wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally. She’s a pacifist of the highest order.”

Fury frowned, “There’s evidence—”

“It’s false.”

His lips compressed, nostrils flaring angrily. “If she didn’t do it, then perhaps you’d be so kind as to tell us who did?”

Sig smiled. “That’s easy. It was me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Stunned silence filled the room. Loki could see the woman over Natasha’s shoulder, her amber eyes trained on Fury’s face.

“Just who the hell are you?” Fury demanded.

She shrugged. “That’s a complicated question.”

Suddenly Thor pushed forward. “Tell us who you are, woman. Your cooperation may garner you some sympathy.”

“Oh, well, in that case.” She bared her teeth at him—a grin completely without humor.

Fury put a suppressing hand on Thor’s shoulder. “You can talk to us or not, but you won’t get out of that cell until we know what the hell is going on here.”

She gave a deep, martyred sigh. “Look, I promised I would try not to kill anyone, but I’m not particularly good at negotiation, and I really am in a hurry. Also, I’m getting really damned tired of people hurting my friend, and although I don’t particularly want to kill you, I won’t lose any sleep over it either.”

Loki felt a surge of admiration. If she was bluffing, she was really damned good at it. If she wasn’t…

Fury’s broad shoulders tightened in outrage. “So you attack us without warning, threaten to kill us, and you expect us to just hand her over, no questions asked?”

“Not really. But don’t say I didn’t try.”

And then something extraordinary happened.

To a human, it would seem that the electricity in the building simply went out. But Loki sensed the shift—felt the woman in the opposite cell call out to the power that raced through the walls—saw it jump to her in its pure elemental form, invisible to the untrained eye.

And then, for just a moment, all hell broke loose.

By the time the emergency system sputtered into life, the door to her cell was halfway open. She hit them with a burst of energy so dense it threw everyone back against the front wall of Loki’s cell. Fury, Natasha, even Thor—simply crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Red lights flashed along the walls, and the air filled with the dull bleating of an alarm.

The woman stepped lightly out of her cell and over the body of Nick Fury. She met Loki’s gaze in the blinking red light.

Loki wanted to laugh. “You could have escaped at any time.”

She slapped her hand on the door to his cell and it immediately slid open.

“What’s this?” he said, surprised.

“I believe you were about to offer me your services,” she replied, holding out her hand as he approached the opening. “Call me Sig.”

 

* * *

 

Cautiously, he clasped her arm and repeated, “Sig.”

“You  _were_  about to offer me your service, yes? In exchange for my assistance in your escape, naturally.”

“I…” he blinked in surprise. “Yes. Naturally.”

“You know where they’re keeping Mad?”

“Not exactly. I know the layout of the building, however.”

“Excellent. They’ll have her in a lab, most likely. She’s hooked up to some sort of suspension module. They’re keeping her unconscious, otherwise, she’d have found me by now.”

“There will be more of them,” he gestured to the bodies at their feet, gaze falling on his brother. “He should not be unconscious right now—not from a little bump like that.”

Sig was already striding towards the outer door. Loki followed.

“It wasn’t just a bump,” she said, “More like a—I dunno—a mind-stun? Straight to the brain,” she tapped the side of her head. “Also, I shut down the cameras and everything, so the peons upstairs will be confused for at least a couple minutes. We have that long to make a head start.”

She reached for the door and Loki grabbed her arm. “Hold on.”

Her eyes widened as he cast an illusion to make them look like a pair of Fury’s so-called peons. With the face of a human man, Sig looked down at herself.  “That’s a neat trick.”

Smiling, he pulled the door open. “After you.”

The prison level hallway was empty but for a single guard, who lay unconscious just outside the door.

“Did you do that?” Loki asked.

Sig nodded. “I saw him when I tapped into the electrical grid. He was standing right next to the power panel so it was easy to zap him.”

Loki felt a surge of honest admiration. “Impressive.”

“Thanks,” she replied absently, gazing down the hall first one direction, and then the other. “Which way?”

He pointed, and they jogged down the corridor to the elevator. Sig slapped her hand on the panel and the door popped open with a telltale  _ding!_ as the light above it flicked on.

“It’ll be suspicious that we’re riding the elevator when the power’s out,” Loki warned.

“Better to be quick,” was her only answer as they stepped inside.

They rode up six floors with Sig channeling electricity directly into the elevator system. Loki led her hurriedly along the maze of halls towards the science division.

Miraculously, no one seemed to take note of them amongst the myriad workers scurrying up and down the halls on their way to figuring out whatever had gone wrong.

“She’s in here. I can feel her,” Sig stopped outside the door to the main lab, reaching for the panel.

“Wait, there likely will be people in there.”

“I know.”

The door popped open and Loki had a flash of small, thin woman stretched out on a table with two men standing over her.

“Wait, not Banner—!” Loki cried, and grabbed Sig’s arm.

His vision flashed white as power crackled up his arm, exploding directly into his head.

He came to a moment later with Sig leaning over him, her hand resting gently on his forehead. Her skin was incredibly soft. “You shouldn’t touch me when I’m doing that,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better.” His head was pounding. 

“Can you get up?”

He nodded and she turned away, towards the table.

“Bruce,” Loki said, coming to his feet.

The other man was standing off in the corner of the room. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Yeah. Hi. Don’t mind me. Just…you know, standing by.”

Loki looked at Sig, leaning over the woman on the bed. “You didn’t hit him.”

The other man—an unnamed tech in a white lab-coat—lay unconscious at Bruce’s feet, where he had clearly been dragged.

“Of course not,” Sig said, without looking at him. “He’s chock full of gamma radiation.”

Loki gave Bruce a speculative look.

“I promised not to interfere,” the man said nervously. “I never thought we should mess with this—” he gestured at the woman on the table, “whatever this is—anyway.”

“You believe she’s a wanted criminal,” Sig accused quietly, glancing at the graying scientist. “You’re draining her life force.”

“No, no!” Bruce denied emphatically—a little desperately. “We recovered her from the people who did that to her. An underground crime syndicate in Britain. We thought it was a life support system at first. And then it came back she was this mass-murderer—” Sig gave him a sharp look and he swallowed audibly. “We left her like that because we didn’t know what she would do if we woke her up, or even if she would survive.”

Loki approached the table. The woman lying there was hardly larger than a child and thin as a rail, dressed in a shapeless white gown. Her skin was extremely pale, with a strange, lavender cast to it, face thin and bones sharp. Her shoulder-length hair was very fine, and green—the color of living pine needles. 

There was a thin metal band circling her head, attached at the temples with fine silver wires extending from it like little antennae. Beside the bed stood a narrow white metal cylinder and a five-foot structure that looked like a larger version of the antennae on the headband.

“Her vitals have been steadily dropping over the last week–since we brought her in,” Bruce went on, almost apologetically. “We tried to take the crown off and she almost went into a seizure.”

Loki looked down at Sig. Her face was stiff and expressionless. “What is this?” He asked quietly.

“It’s a memory trap. It keeps her consciousness disconnected from her body, suspended in her own memories. That—” she pointed to the cylinder, “—is draining and storing her life energy, so whoever did this to her can use for it something. Probably to power a time device. That’s usually the way of it.”

“We don’t have any time devices,” Bruce said quietly. “I swear.”

“I believe you.” She met Loki’s gaze and he was stunned to see light there—magic swirling in her eyes. Magic, and rage. “I need you to stand guard until I can get her out of this. Then we’re gone.”

“Alright.”

“Can you shield us?” she asked.

“Yes. I can make it look like nothing is wrong in here,” he glanced at Banner. “And I can keep it quiet.”

The human swallowed again, loudly.

“Good. I don’t know how long it will take.” She met his gaze again and said, very quietly. “Thank you.”

Loki wasn’t used to gratitude. Certainly not accompanied by such sincerity. Unable to muster words, he simply nodded.

Sig climbed onto the table and sat cross-legged beside her friend while he cast an illusion over the room. To passers-by, it would look like Banner was working normally with his little underling. Meanwhile, he tied Banner to a chair and gagged him with medical tape, then pushed him into a closet, along with the unconscious tech. When he turned, Sig had gone into a trance, energy swirling gently around her, making her hair drift lightly against her cheeks.

And while he waited, he had plenty of time wonder about her. To replay her conversation with Fury in his mind. Just how powerful was she? How much of what she’d said was true?

And how could he best use her to his own advantage?

 

* * *

 

Sig found Mad in a memory of her childhood—a tiny, delicate girl in a lavender robe that matched her skin, sitting at a long stone table in a vast library with vaulted stone ceilings. Barefoot, alone, poring over an enormous book, her green hair tied in three neat little braids.

“Of course this is where I’d find you.”

“It’s peaceful,” Mad replied, without looking up.

“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. Memory has no time.”

“Of course.” Sig sighed. “We have to go, though.”

She didn’t respond.

“Mad. You’re dying.”

At last, Mad looked up, violet eyes enormous in her tiny, angular face. “Maybe I should.”

Sig scowled. “Don’t start with that.”

“You don’t think so? It’s been so long…” she gazed lovingly down at the broad pages of the open book. “It would be nice to rest.”

“I’m not leaving you here to die.”

The little-girl-Mad stroked the markings on the page before her; glyphs of some ancient language long since lost. Except to Mad. Nothing was ever truly lost to Mad. Well, nothing but her people.

The silence stretched, expanded. Sig’s urgency solidified into a knot somewhere in the vicinity of her Adam’s apple. She knew from experience that one of Mad’s silences could easily go on for days. Weeks. Even months. Hurry was an inaccessible concept for a Tolok.

“You promised.” The words echoed crisply against the walls, repeating themselves again and again into the distant stacks.

Mad sighed. “I did.” She looked up and smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I will stay with you, my Sigyn. Let’s go, then.”

She held out her small, slender hand, the fingers unusually long, palms narrow and colorless. Sig took it with such relief that her eyes began to burn.

“Hold on to me,” Sig said. “I don’t want to lose you on the way back.”

Mad smiled up at her again, and Sid let go of the memory-library, hurtling them in a rush of energy and color back to the lab and to her own body. 

There was a moment of disorientation when they arrived—a strange sensation of crowding as both Sig and Mad attempted to enter Sig’s body.  Quickly, Sig opened her eyes, grabbed Mad’s hand and said, “Right here!” and Mad popped out again, settling into her own flesh with a telepathic sigh.

Her violet eyes popped open just as Sig looked up at Loki, standing near the door with a look of warning on his face. She cried, “Mad, wait—!” but the Tolok had already pulled them out of the room and into the time aether.

 _Go back!_  Sig cried.  _We have to take the Asgardian!_

 _Asgardian?_  Mad replied, with palpable curiosity.

Through the green mists of the ether, Sig could still see the lab, and if she focused she could hear Loki’s voice, muffled as he backed away from the door and the big blonde Asgardian who burst through it.

Abruptly, Mad opened the aether just far enough for Sig to reach through and grab hold of Loki’s hand. She saw him look down in surprise, caught a flash of the other Asgardian’s shock, and then Mad pulled him through with a soundless psychic  _pop!_

 _WHAT IN THE NAME OF_ —? Loki bellowed, spinning around.  _WHAT IS THIS?_

 _Don’t let go of my hand_ , Sig snapped.  _And you don’t have to yell. This is the ether. A sort of middle place, between space-time and the void._

 _What? That’s impossible_. He was frowning down at her, then at Mad beside her. Sig didn’t look, but she felt sure by the expression on Loki’s face that the little Tolok was smiling at him in her typical beatific way.

 _He can’t reach us in the aether_.  Sid said, watching him look around at the mist-shrouded lab and the bewildered Asgardian who was currently calling,  _Brother! Show yourself!_

Loki looked at her again in consternation.  _Your mouth isn’t moving._

 _We don’t have voices here_ , Sig replied impatiently.  _Bodies, either. Well, not in the traditional sense. These are just projections. I don’t really understand it myself, to be honest._

 _It requires no understanding_ , Mad said pleasantly.

Loki glared at her as though she’d insulted his ancestors.

 _She’s trying to comfort you,_ Sig explained. And then felt silly when regarded _her_ as though she’d sprouted a second head.

 _No one comforts me_ , he said, then blinked as if the words had surprised him.

Sig felt an unwelcome pang of empathy. It was this way in the aether. Somehow, without mouths to get in the way, you ended up saying more than you meant to.

Feeling it, too.

 _Mad, the ship_ , Sig prompted.

The Tolok had been watching the blonde Asgardian. She turned to look at Loki curiously.  _He calls you ‘Brother,’ but you are Jotun._

Loki’s face went blank with shock.

Oops.  _Mad, it’s time to go._

 _There is no hurry, my Sigyn_ , Mad soothed.

 _Sigyn?_   Loki looked at her sharply.  _That’s an Asgardian name._

_Shit._

_Mad, please,_  Sig begged.

 _There is no problem_. Mad said pleasantly.  _I need to recharge my form before traveling. We must stay here a while._

_How long?_

_In Earth time…_ Mad seemed to calculate.  _Perhaps thirty-six hours._

 _Thirty-six—!_  Loki blurted.

 _Just take from me, you ridiculous Tolok_! Sig cried.  _I want to get out of here!_

Mad smiled up at her, young-old face crinkled with pleasure.  _Thank you, my Sigyn. You are kind._

Sig poured the remainder of the electrical energy she’d taken from the compound into Mad, watching the Tolok’s aura grow vibrantly green as her little face shone with joy. When the energy was gone and Mad still depleted, Sig gave deeply of her own essence.

When at last the Tolok could take no more, the aether grew thick as smoke around them, seeming to gather in on itself in preparation for the jump.

Loki’s hand tightened on hers just before the mists began to rush past, and the sensation of his fingers and his shoulder against hers was…strangely welcome.

 _It’s been too long since you touched someone,_  she thought with a twinge of longing.

When the mist retreated, they were standing inside the ship—it was still half-buried in the earth just in front of the compound, surrounded by two dozen SHIELD agents and guards.

 _They really can’t see us_ , Loki said.

Since it wasn’t a question, Sig didn’t bother to answer.  _Ok, Mad, bring us back through._

With another psychic  _pop!_  They came out of the aether and into the cockpit. Sig threw herself into the pilot’s chair and gestured Loki towards the other. He was blinking vacantly at their surroundings. “Where did the little one go?”

“Still in the aether. She doesn’t much like being physical.”

He frowned.

“She’s here, just like we were in that lab, only we can’t see her. She’ll ride along with us through the aether.”

The engines surged to life, making the humans outside burst into frenzied action.

“They’re about to shoot at us,” Loki growled, buckling himself in. “You may wish to make evasive maneuvers.”

Sig leaned forward, slapped a button on the console and said over the speaker. “Hey guys, you really don’t want to do that.”

The humans froze, and then looked at each other over their guns. The man with the bullhorn yelled, “FIRE!” just as Sig brought the ship up off the ground, clumps of dirt and grass flinging in every direction.

A barrage of shots pinged off the shields and sent the humans diving for cover.

“Told you!” Sig called as she spun the ship and took them up over the compound fence and into the sky.

She flashed Loki a grin and saw Mad’s head pop into view behind him, aether swirling around it. “The other one is coming.”

“The other what?” said Loki, just as the ship bleeped in warning.

Sig felt the fission of energy, saw a flash on the ship’s sensor screen, and then something stuck the shields with incredible force, making them dip sharply to the left. Brilliant arcs of electrical energy lit the window, crackling along the shields like—

“Is that _lightning?_ ”

“It’s my brother.” Loki was leaning forward, craning his neck to see—

Suddenly the big Asgardian was there in front of the ship, clinging spread-eagle to the outer shield, lighting racing along his body and lighting his left eye.

“ _Oh, creepy!_ ” Sig cried. She pulled up—hard—then banked sharply right. The Asgardian slipped off and she hit the throttle to full, taking them up at nearly a ninety-degree angle.

“How high can he—?” she started to ask, and then they were hit again, and the shields crashed almost instantly. “Shit!”

“The guns!” Loki yelled over the shriek of the ship’s warning system.

“You want me to  _shoot_  your brother?!”

“Yes, by Valhalla,  _shoot him!_ If he hits us again we’ll—”

But it was too late. She felt it coming—the buzz and crackle gathering at the edge of her senses like a bomb about to go off—and threw herself wide to it.  The energy came straight in, passing obediently through the hull in its purest form to fill her aura in a searing blast.

Sig screamed.

The Asgardian hit the hull a second later and the ship spun almost 180 degrees. The big blonde bastard was there, sliding across the window again, yelling something inaudible. 

She caught his look of bewilderment just before she flung everything—all that raw energy—right back at him. It struck him square in the chest—a crackling blast so bright it blinded her for a moment and made her ears ring. When her vision finally cleared the guy was gone, the shields were already re-booting, and they were fast approaching the Earth’s outer atmosphere.

Beside her, Loki’s voice was blank with awe. “Did you just…?”

“I think I killed your brother,” she said weakly.

And then she promptly lost consciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki pulled Sig out of the captain’s chair and laid her carefully on the floor while the ship broke free of Midgard’s atmosphere and hurtled into space. 

She was breathing. He felt an unexpected rush of relief.

The little time-witch was there at the console when he turned, pushing buttons and flipping switches.

“What are you doing?”

She looked back at him as he rose.

“Auto-pilot,” she replied cheerfully. “Sigyn will need to rest a while. Her form is very depleted. I will keep us safe until she wakes.” And then the strange little creature just popped out of existence.

“Wait!” he cried angrily, rushing to the console. The controls were locked. He cursed. “What have you done?”

There was no answer. He looked back at the woman lying unconscious on the floor, and then again at the console. He could at least  _try_  to override the locks.

He’d barely reached for the console when the time-witch popped back in beside him.

“Bloody hell!”

“You shouldn’t do that,” she said politely. “The controls are set to recognize only Sig and me. You’ll make her angry.”

“I hardly think she’s going to notice at the moment.”

“Not Sigyn, the ship.”

Loki suppressed his exasperation, taking a diplomatic tone. “If you’ll be so kind as to unlock it, I’ll be happy to navigate us to-–”

“No, thank you.”

“Listen, _witch_ ,” he grated, reaching for her. She was gone before he’d completed the movement. 

Cursing under his breath, he turned back to the controls and attempted to hack the security protocols. The ship immediately issued a high pitched warning tone and the console flashed an alarming shade of red.

“Alright, alright,” he held up his hands in submission. “I get it.”

He looked around again at Sig. He considered threatening to kill her if the witch didn’t unlock the controls, but it seemed a better idea to ingratiate himself and wait for a better opportunity. He had to admit, they’d planned this well. He’d have taken the ship and dumped them both at the first opportunity. Probably. 

But even as he thought it, he wondered if it was true. That little time-witch was a problem without a solution. And the woman–-Sigyn-–was remarkably powerful. 

Plus,  if he was being completely honest with himself, the idea of being on his own again, wandering an inhospitable universe, with his name at the top of Thanos’ shit list was…less than appealing.

_I could certainly use some powerful friends._

And the two of them were nothing if not powerful. He had an inkling the witch had even more up her sleeve than what he’d seen so far. And the other… he looked at her again.

He’d watched her take the full brunt of Thor’s power—and then _wield_ it, if to her own detriment. She was Asgardian, too. He’d bet his life on it.

_With power like that…_

But she was clever, self-assured. Perceptive. Not the type to bow to his leadership.

Perhaps he could seduce her. That might give him some leverage. He measured that long, sleek body with his eyes.  _It wouldn’t exactly be an unpleasant undertaking, either._

Then again, Sig didn’t fit into the category of woman who usually fell under his spell, for the same reasons that she wouldn’t likely accept his leadership.

It was an uncomfortable situation for him, to say the least. Needing powerful allies, but having little power to wield _over_ them. 

As he sat there thinking, calculations gave way to a quiet sort of exhaustion.

With nothing but silence for company, he found himself thinking of Sakaar. Of Thor.

_Loki, life is about growth. It’s about change, but you just seem to want to stay the same. I guess what I’m trying to say is… You’ll always be the God of Mischief, but you could be more._

_Why_ did he keep thinking of that? 

“Patronizing bullshit,” he spat into the silence.

But it had been lodged there in his mind for months. Hovering on the edge of every thought. Every pause. Every stretch of stillness.

Hounding him.

_You could be more._

He couldn’t pretend  _not_  to see that his life replayed itself like a carousel. Patterns repeating over and over.

Lies, betrayal, destruction, loss—his birth, his upbringing, his place in Asgard. Exile. Torture at the hands of Thanos. Promises made and summarily broken. Failure after failure. Humiliation. Judgment. 

_Mother_.

No, he wouldn’t think of her.

And there was Hela. More secrets swept under proverbial the rug. Locked away. The true history of his people, like a festering wound broken open. Odin…

_I love you, my sons._

Lies.

Asgard in ruins.

Betrayal.

Nothing to return to.

Loss.

Round and round and round again. For what?

And through it all there was Thor. Always the golden child. Always the hero. Bumbling, idiot Thor.

_You could be more._

How  _dare_  he.

Loki seethed. There was no defense. No way to soothe himself. Just the silence and a well of simmering rage.

And those words—again and again—like acid on his heart.

_You could be more._

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you sad?”

Loki nearly leaped out of his skin. The little witch was standing at his elbow.

“What?”

“Are you sad?” she repeated, enormous eyes unblinking. “You appear unhappy.”

For a moment he could not respond. Emotion backed up in his throat. Rage and pain. Something else. How long had it been since anyone asked him how he felt?

_Since Frigga._

“I would be happier if you unlocked the controls.”

“No, thank you,” she replied. “Will you sleep? Your form is depleted.”

Abruptly, he became aware that he was exhausted.

“There is a bed,” she continued. “There.”

Loki turned. She pointed to a panel in the floor.

“Perhaps you will carry Sigyn.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she was gone.

_Rude._

A bed did sound rather wonderful, however. He rose, stepping carefully around the unconscious woman on the floor, and pulled up the panel. The lights came on instantly—two little rows along the floor, leading away from the steps directly below the opening, and more along the walls. They revealed a surprisingly large living chamber. Easily as big as the flight deck.

He lifted Sigyn and carried her down the steps, spotted the bed in the far corner and deposited her there on the rumpled blanket. She sighed and her head lolled to one side. Her eyes were ringed in shadows. And her lips were too pale.

He thought about undressing her and decided not to. A moment later he relented somewhat and removed her boots, socks, and jacket. She looked so vulnerable, lying there in a thin cotton undershirt with her feet naked and her hair lying in a tangle against her cheek. It made him feel strangely guilty, so he tucked her under the blanket and promptly looked away.

The front end of the ship was a single floor-to-ceiling window, looking out on naked space and drifting stars. The wall behind the bed was lined with shelves. There must have been some kind of gravity shield on them because they were full of books and colorful bottles and odd little carvings, all of which seemed to be in order. The opposite wall boasted a series of inlaid drawers and door panels, and there was a low table with a computer console set into the center of it.

At the back of the room, he found a narrow door leading to a bathroom, which he made use of before inspecting the computer console. It beeped and flashed red just as the main console had done when he tried to use it

He might have snooped some more if he hadn’t been so tired. But the bed was rather large—large enough to comfortably accommodate two people, anyway—and the bedding itself delightfully luxurious. He settled next to Sigyn and found himself breathing in her scent. It was unidentifiable—soft and earthy and slightly floral. Oddly relaxing.

He was asleep in minutes.

 

* * *

 

Sigyn woke the sensation of a very full bladder and the murmur of the entertainment system. Lifting herself from the mattress was like rising from a vat of molasses.

“You’re awake.”

That deep, velvety voice would have jolted her if she hadn’t been mid sleep-cycle. As it was, she felt a swimming sort of disorientation.

Loki was in her bed, leaning back against the headboard, long legs stretched out and crossed elegantly at the ankles, hands tucked behind his head.

“She is not done resting. Are you, Sigyn?”

Mad was perched on the end of the mattress near Loki’s feet. Beyond her, the console was projecting an episode of Game of Thrones at full size, filling the front window from floor to ceiling and making it opaque.

“Loki has never watched Earth T.V. before,” Mad explained.

Too muzzy to respond, Sig turned and clambered over the Asgardian on her way to the bathroom. Her knee buckled as soon as her foot hit the floor, however, and for just a moment she found herself looking down into startled blue-green eyes as she sat straddling Loki’s hips.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, scrambling off.

“No harm done.” He sounded amused.

In her haze, that voice was almost too much—like a physical touch, rasping along her senses. She wanted to tell him not to speak, but she was already in the bathroom and that would be a weird thing to say anyway.

_Don’t talk because your voice makes me feel like a raw nerve._

“No, I can’t say that,” she mumbled. “Stupid.” And then she knocked several bottles off the shelf beside the sink while trying to get her pants undone.

“Are you alright in there?”

_Agh! Why does everything he says sound like a caress?_   “No! Go away!”

“No?”

Before she could muster a response there came a reassuring murmur from Mad. Sigyn managed to finish her business without further incident but realized upon emerging that she would have to climb over Loki again to get back in bed.

He was lying there propped on her pillows just the way he had been. He looked at her expectantly.

And then it occurred to her that she could just walk around the end of the bed and get in that way.

He  _chuckled_.

Sigyn burrowed under the covers and turned her back to him, dropping almost instantly into boneless sleep. She was distantly aware of the two of them for a little while—their voices and the murmur of the show in the background.

_Actually, it’s nice_ , was her final semi-conscious thought before deep sleep took her.

 

* * *

 

The next time she woke it was quiet and dark. And warm.

Very warm.

Her nose was pressed into somebody’s chest, and a heavy arm draped over her side.

_What the–?_

Loki’s arm. Loki’s chest. Loki’s slow, steady breath in her hair.

“ _Why_  are you  _cuddling_  me?”

He started. “I beg your pardon?” His voice was even deeper than usual, raspy with sleep.

Sig drew her head back to look up at him. “I said, why are you  _cuddling_  me?”

He blinked down at her in the dark. “You cuddled me first.”

_Well_.

“Let go.”

He lifted his arm and she rolled away, taking the covers with her.

And immediately felt bereft.

_Stupid. What’s the harm in a little cuddle?_

_…With the personification of Trouble._

_Right._

“I don’t suppose I might negotiate the return of the blanket?” he asked. Politely.

“Aren’t you Jotun? Do frost giants get cold?”

There was a pause, and then he replied icily. “This one does.”

Okay. So the Jotun thing was clearly a sore spot with him. Interesting _._

Sig squirmed out of the tangle of bedding and flung one end of the covers in his direction.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Silence, and the sound of his breath, slow and steady. Not sleeping though. His heat crept across the space between them and gathered under her side of the blankets.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked quietly.

“Ninety-eight hours, give or take.”

_Yikes._  She’s gone far too long without. And then there was that incident with the big Asgardian. 

_Right. That._

“Did I… kill your brother?”

“Highly unlikely, though I wouldn’t fault you if you had.”

_Okay…._ “Glad to hear it.”

More silence and the sound of Loki shifting minutely against the mattress. The blankets moved, shifting over her legs. Her  _bare_  legs. 

“Um…Why am I not wearing pants?”

“You left them in the bathroom the last time you woke up.”

“Ah.”

There was a long beat of silence and then he said, “You talk in your sleep.”

_Great._  “What did I say?”

“Something about coffee and epic poems.”

She giggled.

“Also, you called me ‘Sugarbottom.’”

“ _What?_  I most certainly did not.”

“You did.”

“I have never—and would never—make use of the word ‘sugarbottom’ for  _any_  reason.”

“Mm. I found it a little disconcerting myself.”

Sig pressed her face into the pillow.

“I assume you were dreaming of an old boyfriend.”

Laughter bubbled deep in her chest. “Please, stop.”

“That would also explain the uninvited cuddling.”

“Oh my God.”

Silence.

Two beats. Three. And then, “ _Ye-es_?”

Sig turned and threw a pillow at him. 

He caught it. Chuckled.

When after a few moments he didn’t speak again, she relaxed into the mattress, still smiling. Then she found herself wondering idly if he actually liked to cuddle or he’d only been accommodating her.

Abruptly, she rolled back towards him. His eyes were open, looking down at her.

_This is dumb, Sigyn._

“Just cuddling,” she said, heart beating a little fast. “If you don’t mind.”

His brows rose. A moment later he lifted his arm. Sigyn squirmed closer and he draped his arm over her side again.

There was a long silence. Sig was very aware of the sound of his heartbeat. He smelled good. And his chest was delightfully broad.

“In the aether…” he trailed off.

She tilted her head to look up at him. “What?”

“You said, ‘It’s been a long time since I touched anyone.’”

_Oh._

For the life of her, she could not think of a response.

“Perhaps I could—” he began.

“Nope.”

He sighed.

Sig bit her lip. It really had been too long. And he was so warm. And male. And… She squirmed a little closer, allowing herself to rest lightly against the length of his body.

_Wow_. “Um…”

“You started it,” he said defensively. “It’s a perfectly natural reaction.”

“Reaction to what? I haven’t done anything!”

“You’re barely dressed,” he accused. “And you’re not wearing any undergarments. Also, there’s the cuddling, which you initiated. Twice.”

“I have panties on!”

“I can see down your shirt.”

“You can  _not_. It’s dark in here.”

“I have excellent night vision.”

The neck of her shirt  _was_  gaping, she realized, covering herself with one hand. “Have you been perving on me while I was sleeping?”

“ _Perving_?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I haven’t laid a finger on you,” he growled in affront.

Sig subsided into mistrustful silence.

“I may have looked,” he said, again in that defensive tone, “But looking is not a crime.”

“Oh my god, you  _were_  perving on me!”

“Stop using that obnoxious word,” he grated. “I’ve been a perfect gentleman. I could hardly fail to, given the constant proximity of your little friend—Not that I have any interest in…in accosting unconscious women.”

She fought not to smile. “You sound like such a prig right now.”

He made a sound of pure exasperation. “First I’m a pervert, and now I’m a prig? Make up your mind.”

She had, though. Suddenly her mind was very made up indeed.

“Mad,” she said, speaking to the empty room. “Privacy, please.”


	4. Chapter 4

Loki frowned down at the woman in his arms and then craned around to look for the little witch.

“She’s not here, I was just making sure she isn’t watching.”

He turned back. Sig had ducked her head a little so he couldn’t see her face. She shifted closer and the press of her body made his blood pressure spike almost unbearably.

He felt as though he’d been inflamed for days, lying next to her. Listening to her breathe and mumble in her sleep. Watching that ridiculously thin shirt gape or pull tight over her breasts when she rolled over. Fielding her unconscious cuddles.

“What are you doing?” he asked warily.

She’d taken her hand away from her chest and he watched as it disappeared between their bodies. The back of it brushed his belly, slid slower.

“Touching,” she murmured, as her knuckles grazed his erection.

The breath caught in his lungs.

“I thought—” but the words got stuck at the back of his throat. Her fingers had slipped behind the waistband of his trousers.

“You can’t touch me, ok?” she said softly. “I’m just going to do this, and that’s it.”

“I can’t touch you,” he repeated stupidly, blindsided by her boldness—totally off-balance. It was a novel experience. He scrambled mentally for his usual composure, but her hand delved, found naked skin. Cupped him gently.

Intelligent thought evaporated. “Why—why can’t I touch you?” He sounded dazed even to his own ears.

“Because that’s not what this is. It’s not an exchange.” She stroked him once, the movement limited somewhat by the unyielding fabric of his trousers. Her hand was silky. Warm. “I’m just going to touch you, and you’re going to lie there and let me. And when it’s over, it’s over. That’s the end of it.”

The imperative tone made his hackles raise, ego battling with the drugging pleasure of her touch. He opened his mouth to argue, and then her fingers curled around him, squeezed. Pleasure abruptly won.

Loki heard himself groan softly. “That seems…unfair.”

Her hand stilled. “Take it or leave it.”

_Bloody hell._ “At least let me open the placket.”

She leaned back a little to give him room and he fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers, wondering when exactly, he had lost control of the situation--or if he’d ever had it in the first place.

When he had freed himself he pulled the blanket aside and looked down at her hand on his cock. The sight of her slender fingers curled around his sex filled him with enormous—and startling—satisfaction. Reeling a little, he reached for her, settling his hand on the curve of her hip.

“No touching,” she insisted quietly.

_Dammit_. Fevered, a little angry, totally at a loss, he lifted his arm and rested it along his side, waiting on pins and needles for her to continue.

She started stroking him again. Excruciatingly slowly. _Maddeningly_ slowly. Not to please him, he realized, with a sudden, intense bolt of lust. She was enjoying him. Luxuriating in the sensation of his sex. Gliding deliberately over every inch. Exploring his textures with her fingertips.

He was reeling again. Utterly inflamed. His own breath rasped in his ears. Restrained sexual aggression pulsed in every muscle.

Had anyone ever touched him like this before? Just for the pleasure of touching? Had anyone ever taken such joy in his body without asking for anything in return?

She withdrew her hand and licked it, then stroked him again, slick and hot. He moaned and flexed into her grip.

A curious sort of burn started in his groin, sparking from her fingertips and spreading up his body, filling his belly, flooding his chest. Lust and something else. An aching sensation too complex to decipher. He wanted to flip her over, pin her, mount her roughly. Wanted to feel her writhing under him, drink from her mouth and swallow her cries of pleasure. But he was paralyzed, totally helpless. Intoxicated.

Her other hand slid under the fabric bunched at the base of his cock. Instinctively, he widened his legs so she could cup his sac. She did it with incredible tenderness, tearing a little sound from deep in his chest. A humiliating, helpless sound.

Her wet palm twisted over the head of his cock. His gaze latched onto the gaping neck of her shirt—the naked upper curves of her breasts. Beautiful breasts: smallish, perfectly rounded. His mouth watered with the desire to suck them—to bite them and leave his marks on her flesh.

She stroked him faster, more deliberately. Pleasure pooled and hummed between her hands. He was gripping her hip again, he realized. But she didn’t say anything, so he held on and began thrusting into her touch—desperate for some scrap control. And _blessed Allmother_ , she let him have it, adjusted to accommodate him, catching his rhythm, letting him lead the final stretch. The blood sang in his veins.

_By Valhalla_ , it was good!

In a few more seconds, he was teetering on the edge. She leaned forward, and his disappointment at losing his view of her breasts was quickly replaced with a surge of raw lust as her tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of his throat.

He growled wordlessly, urging her on, totally lost to it now. And then, just as the climax began to blossom at the base of his spine, she bit him—sharp teeth clamping onto the edge of his collarbone and holding, riding him out as he stiffened and shuddered and jerked in her hands.

 

* * *

 

 

A few minutes later, safely closed away in the bathroom, Sig leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

She could still smell his skin. Feel his cock pulsing in her hands. Hear the rumpled velvet sound of his voice exclaiming in pleasure.

It rocked her.

But more than that, there was the way he’d looked at her after. Lips parted, breathing hard, brow slightly furrowed--and this strange sort of vulnerability in his eyes. Like she’d betrayed him somehow. Taken advantage of him. As though she’d hurt him, just a little, by giving him such pleasure.

And maybe she had, because even though she’d done exactly what she’d set out to do, somehow it had gone too far. Spiraled out of her control.

It was just supposed to be a moment of pleasure. A playful indulgence. Instead, it had been…what? She had no words for it.

She felt…raw. Naked. Shaken.

_How long has it been? How long since you felt this way?_

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

_I never wanted to feel like this again._

But she wouldn’t have to for long, she reminded herself.

Mad would have initiated protocol 8 as soon as Sig lost consciousness. That meant the ship was on autopilot and headed straight for the sector 4 trading post. Loki would undoubtedly take his leave when they arrived. They would never see him again.

_That’s good….right?_

But right now she was on fire, her composure in crumbles. And he was still there, lying in her bed. She could still taste the skin at the base of his throat. Could still feel his pulse beating wildly on her lips, his chest heaving against her breasts.

Suddenly she felt like crying. She hadn’t cried in…centuries? The ducts behind her eyes burned as though awakening from death itself.

Mad popped in beside her.

“Mad. We’ve talked about this,” Sig hissed past the lump in her throat. “Not in the bathroom!”

“You like him.”

Sig flushed, suddenly furious. Terrified at the thought of another witness to this… this stripping-away of her defenses. “You better not have been watching!”

“No, I left when you told me to,” Mad held up her hand as though swearing an oath. “I like him, too. He taught me how to gamble.“

"He did what?”

“You were asleep so long. He taught me how to cheat, too. He’s very clever.”

“Mad–”

“He also tried to hack the computer and steal the ship. But he didn’t hurt you while you were sleeping. He touched your hair, though.” The Tolok smiled impishly.

“He touched my–-wait, nevermind. He tried to steal the ship?”

Mad nodded. “We can’t trust him, but I still like him.”

“Okay,” Sig’s head was still spinning. “Hold on. Back up. We have to talk about-–”

The bathroom door swung open. Loki was standing there in his rumpled clothes, black hair curling wildly. “I’m beginning to feel left out."

"Does nobody on this ship understand bathroom privacy!?” Sig cried.

“We were talking about you,” Mad told him conversationally.

_Oh my god_. “Get out!”

They both looked at her. She started shoving unceremoniously, ignoring the chorus of exclamations and complaints.

Then she sat on the toilet and tried to reassemble the scattered pieces of her composure.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, we’ll be at the post in about 20 hours,” Sig said, leaning over the main console on the flight deck. “Now,” she swiveled in the chair to face Mad. “You have some explaining to do, my friend. And make it quick, before Loki gets out of the shower.”

Mad gave her a supremely innocent look.

“Why were you on Earth? How in God’s name did you get yourself captured?” Sig demanded.

“There was a convention in London,” Mad admitted sheepishly.

Of course. Mad was obsessed with Earth entertainment. Science Fiction, specifically. “You went to the London Comic Con. And you decided to just up and shift across hundreds of thousands of light years to get there, without telling me.”

Again with that innocent look. “You were busy.”

“I was–-" Sig nearly choked on her outrage. Took a deep breath. “Ok. I was busy. Let’s pretend I actually buy that. How did you get yourself caught? By  _humans_? Didn’t you check the timelines?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Mad hesitated, looked away. “Some of them were…obscured.”

Sig felt the blood drain from her face. “No.” She leaned forward, put her face in her hands.  _No, no, no!_

_He’s still alive._

Mad moved closer, put her small hand on Sigyn’s shoulder, lilting voice soft with compassion. “It will be alright, my Sigyn.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Sig replied weakly.

“And it was.”

Stung, Sigyn lifted her head and whispered harshly, “Don’t you dare. You were there. You saw what happened.”

Mad gaze was wide and unblinking. “I am sorry.”

“All those people, Mad,” Sign’s heart felt like lead in her chest.

Mad wrapped her arms around Sig’s rigid shoulders. Sign leaned into her. She smelled like sugar and vanilla. “Life comes and life goes,” said the Tolok. “It is the way of things.”

“He’ll make me do it again,” she whispered.

“I will protect you, my Sigyn.”

Sig closed her eyes. “Why did you go if you knew the timelines were obscured?”

Mad was silent for a long time.

“Tell me,” Sig demanded quietly.

“Some things were not obscured. Very good things.” She petted Sig’s hair gently. “I want you to be happy, my Sigyn.”

Sig laughed–a dry, humorless rasp. “What makes you think I deserve it?”

 

* * *

 

Loki stood below the open panel to the flight deck and listened intently.

“Did you see him?” Sig asked gravely.

“No.” The witch sounded repentant.

“He was there. Had to be. Otherwise, why would the timelines on Earth be obscured?”

“You would have sensed him, my Sigyn.”

“Maybe not. It’s been what–nearly a thousand years? He’ll have new tricks. He always does.” Her voice was edged with defeat.

“Do not give up. He hasn’t found us.”

“He will have tracked you somehow,” Sigyn insisted.

“His plan was thwarted by the Avengers,” the witch replied reassuringly.

“You saw that in the timeline?”

Silence. Perhaps the witch only nodded, because Sigyn said, “He’ll have a plan B. And C. And D through Z.”

“He cannot find us on this ship. Our cloaking wards are too powerful, even for him.”

“We can’t stay on board forever. And he’ll have sent someone after us. They’ll catch up with us eventually. Especially since…”

There was a heavy pause. “It must have been him who altered the Confederacy records. The Avengers think it was you who destroyed that planet. And some of the others. There’s a one million credit bounty on you now.”

A long silence. “It will be okay.”

Sig made a low sound of scorn. “Really. You know this?”

The witch said nothing.

“Are there still obscurations in the timelines?”

No answer.

“Tell me, dammit!”

“Yes, my Sigyn.” Reluctantly.

“On how many timelines?”

There was another long silence. Sigyn made a low, angry sound.

Finally, the witch answered.

“All of them.”

* * *

 

Loki retreated to the bathroom when he heard Sigyn rise and move towards the hatch, then listened at the door until he heard her descend the steps and cross the room.

He emerged with a towel in one hand, casually rubbing his wet hair. She’d given him some other man’s clothing to wear–-pants of a soft, loose gray wool, and a simple blue cotton undershirt. They were clean but old. He had found himself wondering about the man they’d belonged to–-if he’d been Sigyn’s lover. And that had irritated him.

Whoever he was, he was long gone. She’d dug the clothes out of the very back of a disused drawer, and they were deeply creased from being folded for so long. The satisfaction he felt, knowing that, also irritated him.

Sigyn was opening drawers and cabinets again now, searching for something. She didn’t look at him, though she knew he was there. She could hardly fail to notice, in such a small space.

It rankled. She hadn’t looked at him directly since she’d risen and left him in the bed, grappling with the aftereffects of their little…interlude.

“Is there any food on this ship?” he asked, crossing behind her to sit on the edge of the mattress.

Without turning, she said, “That’s what I’m looking for.”  And then, with obvious frustration, “I thought there were some of those little pastries in here.”

“You mean the spongy ones with the vanilla custard filling?” he asked.

She paused, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Mad found them, I guess.”

He dipped his head in affirmation. “She did share, if that’s any consolation.”

She sighed. “How long can you go without?”

“Long enough.”

“Good,” she turned, “Because this is all we have until we get to the post.” She tossed him a small protein bar in a crinkling silver wrapper.

“What about you?”

She held up another of the same and crossed to the bookshelf, tearing the wrapper open as she went.

He watched her, measuring the angle of her shoulders, the tension in her spine.

“Something on your mind?” he asked, making it a suggestive purr.

She slid him a look. “You wish.”

Hackles rising, he bared his teeth in a sardonic grin, deliberately antagonistic. “You seem tense.”

She ignored him and went back to perusing the books. Finally, she plucked two of them off the shelf and, turning, tossed one to him as she climbed past him onto the bed. “There, entertain yourself. We have time to waste.” And then she settled against the headboard and flipped the other book open in her lap.

“I can think of better things to do than read.”

“I’ll just bet you can,” she grumbled without looking up.

“For example,” he turned toward her, folding one leg up onto the mattress. She gave him a warning look. “Your conversation with Nick Fury.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who?”

_There_ , he thought triumphantly, _Now you’re looking at me_.

“The head of SHIELD. The black man with the eye patch. You spoke of genocide. Planetary destruction. And there’s your name. It’s Asgardian. What of that?”

Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes had gone very cold. She said nothing.

“Don’t feel like sharing? That’s a shame.”

“Sigyn is half-Asgardian.”

“ _Mad_ ,” Sig warned angrily.

Loki turned. The witch stood at the foot of the steps. “She doesn’t like to speak of it.”

“Indeed. Now, why is that?”

Mad turned to Sigyn. The two of them exchanged a long, expressive look-–Sig’s amber eyes glittered with warning.

Mad turned back to Loki. “I am Tolok. We were the keepers of the Time Stone.”

“ _Mad!_ ” Sig barked, as Loki rocked back in shock.

“The Time Stone,” he repeated blankly.

“Yes.” And then to Sig, “It is alright, my Sigyn. This I have seen.”

Sigyn’s shoulders dropped a fraction, her expression faltering from anger to disbelief.

“You’ve seen what?” Loki interrupted.

“The future in which you know of our history,” Mad replied. “It is a good future.”

Loki blinked slowly, considering. “You see the future,” he said. “Can you manipulate it?”

“And the past. Yes. As keepers of the Time stone, the Tolok were imbued with its essence. But we are sworn to observe only. It is our way. To protect by watching.”

“Mad…please,” Sigyn pleaded quietly.

Loki ignored her. “You say ‘is’ and ‘are,’ yet I heard Sigyn say that you’re the last of your kind.”

“I am exiled,” Mad replied calmly. “The Tolok are lost to me.”

_Exiled_. Something shifted in Loki’s chest. An old pain, stirring. “Why?”

“I broke Oath,” Mad replied simply. “The Time stone was taken and Tolok was destroyed.”

“Tolok. Is that your planet?”

Mad nodded. “Tolok is Tolok. There is no division. Except for me. So I am Mad now.”

“You destroyed your own planet,” he said.

“I caused its destruction by breaking Oath, yes.”

“But your people are still alive?”

“Toloks do not need a planet. They exist in the aether only, now.”

He digested that for a moment. “Why have I never heard of it?”

“Tolok was lost many millennia ago.”

Loki stared. “Millennia.”

Mad nodded. “One does not age in the aether.” She looked at Sig.

Loki followed suit.

Sig shook her head emphatically.

“The Tolok had sister planets,” Mad went on, watching the other woman with wide violet eyes. “When the ancients died, they chose the keepers. The Toloks were one. The Sennak another.”

“The ancients,” Loki shook his head, “You mean the original Gods. The Creators of the Universe.”

Mad nodded. “They have many names.”

“Go on.”

“The Sennak were chosen to watch over the Mind stone. They were once considered sister to Tolok.” The little witch fell silent, looking at Sig.

Sig’s demeanor had settled into one of resignation. 

“But…” Loki prompted.

Enormous violet eyes returned to him. “But Sennak forgot its oath to protect. It became hungry.”

“Greedy, you mean.”

“Yes. It is an old story.” She waved one pale had as though to say,  _You’ve heard it before._

“Let me guess. The Sennak came after the other stones.”

“Yes. Tolok was destroyed and the Time stone taken. Other Keepers fell. Sennak grew strong.” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “But too much power eventually rent Sennak apart. Many worlds perished. The Stones were scattered. New keepers chosen. The cycle began again.”

A new cycle. Asgard, Earth.  _Thanos_. “And what happened to Sennak?”

“It persevered. Reborn and rebuilt.” She looked at Sig again. “The rest is for Sigyn to tell.”

They both looked at her. She glared back stubbornly.

“Perhaps today is not the day,” Mad said apologetically. “But Sigyn’s unburdening will come.”

And with that, the Tolok disappeared.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Sig leaned back slowly against the headboard, very away of Loki’s eyes on her.

“Why did she tell me all that?” he asked. The rancor was gone from his tone now, at least.

Sig shrugged. “She’s a Tolok. Even I don’t understand her reasoning most of the time.”

“You know something of it.”

She looked up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling very, very old. “She’s orchestrating.”

“Orchestrating what?”

“Who knows. Toloks aren’t supposed to directly manipulate time, but she can play her own timeline however she likes–-and by extension, the timelines of anyone whose future is linked to hers; she saw something she wanted to happen and she’s orchestrating it.

His silence stretched so long it unnerved her. She drew her legs up close to her chest and draped her arms over her knees. “She won’t tell us what it is. Telling changes the outcome.”

“How long have you been with her?”

The question was unexpected. She met his gaze. “Five thousand years, give or take.”

“Five thousand years,” he repeated, with quiet incredulity. “How old are you?”

“Honestly, I don’t really know.”

He waited.

She sighed. “Eight thousand and some change? Mad would know.”

Mad’s voice drifted down from the hatch. “Nine thousand four hundred and seventy-six.”

“Ever the eavesdropper,” Sig smiled weakly.

“Nine and half thousand years,” he shook his head. “How is that possible? Asgardians live to six thousand at the outside.”

When she didn’t respond he said, “But you’re only half Asgardian. What’s the other half, I wonder?”

Sig tilted her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

“I haven’t heard of the Sennak,” he murmured. “What do they call themselves now?”

She took a slow breath. Let it out. “Aldur.”

Even with her eyes closed, she could sense his shock. “Aldur was destroyed… more than five thousand years ago.”

She could almost hear the facts clicking into place in his mind.

“There were survivors,” she said dully.

“I see.”

The change in his tone made her look at him. His eyes had gone very blue. There was something there that made her heart constrict. Not compassion–-worse than that.

_Understanding._

She closed her eyes again.

And then, in a low, rasping whisper, she confessed.

“I burned it.”

 

* * *

 

“I’d like to forget this conversation ever happened,” Sig said quietly. “Perhaps you could do the same.”

“Not likely,” he replied. He was staring out the window, thoughts swirling.  _Lies. Betrayal. Loss._  He turned to look at her, forcing a smile. “But I’m fairly good at pretending.”

She was still sitting there with her arms over her knees, hands limp. Her head was tilted towards him now. Some of the stiffness had gone out of her demeanor. And all of the anger. Her face was relaxed. Subdued. Amber eyes translucent.

It was like a veil had pulled back inside them. Suddenly he could see it–-thousands of years. Lies. Betrayal. Loss… More.

Resignation. 

All of it was there in her eyes.

“You hid it well,” he murmured.

Her gaze was steady, almost serene. Her voice soft. “Hid what?”

“Everything. Nine and half thousand years of it.”

Her head rolled back to center. She looked up at the ceiling again, blankly. “It doesn’t mean anything, you know.  Nine thousand years, nine hundred, ninety. We’re all children. Forever. Look at Mad. She's over a million years old, and yet she’s always orchestrating. Trying to arrange everything. Like a child playing with dolls; trying to manipulate the universe into giving her what she wants.” Her gaze returned to him. “We’re all selfish. We don’t grow out of that. We just learn different ways of rationalizing it.”

Loki had no response. Not a single word. His heart suddenly seemed to falter–-its beats to slow, as though it’s burdens were too heavy and it had become weary.

After what seemed a long time, Sig let her head roll towards him again, and her lips curved, ever so slightly.

“Hey. You want to get drunk?”

 

* * *

 

“So you don’t have to sleep?” Loki swore. “I like sleeping.”

“I do have to sleep, just not every day. Or even every three. I never actually counted. I just sort of get tired, and then I lay down and sleep.” She handed him the bottle and he propped himself up on his elbows to take a swig. “Same with eating.”

“What is this stuff, again?” It tasted like flowers and every mouthful brought on a soaring, effervescent euphoria, followed by a mellow sort of buzz that seemed to soften his very bones. “It’s amazing.” He handed it back to her.

They were lying flat on their backs, sprawled haphazardly across the bed. Mad sat cross-legged on Sig’s left side, watching their exchange with undisguised interest. Sig’s right knee rested against Loki’s left thigh, his left shoulder brushing her right arm. He couldn’t for the life of him remember how they’d ended up in this position.

“I forget what it’s called, but it’s made on… Yuri? Muri? What is it, Mad?”

“Luria. The seventh moon of Xandar. It’s made from night-blooming elderflower. Generally produced for the sacred initiation rights of the Lurian Priestesshood.”

“Oooh, I must have done something heinous to get ahold of it,” Sig laughed wickedly.

“You don’t remember?” 

She tilted the bottle to her lips. “Nooope.”

Loki had the ridiculous urge to giggle. He repressed it violently.

Mad leaned companionably against Sig’s hip. “You won it in a card game.”

“Did I really?”

“You said you were saving it for a good day. Or a really bad one.”

“Which is this?” Loki asked, taking the bottle as Sig handed it back.

“Good question,” Sig said seriously. “I couldn’t tell you.”

For some reason that sent them both into rolling gales of laughter. Even Mad issued a high, silvery peal of merriment.

And then Sig started singing in a clear, velvety alto.

> _Fly me to the moon_
> 
> _And let me play among the stars_
> 
> _Let me see what spring is like_
> 
> _On Jupiter and mars_
> 
> _In other words_
> 
> _Hold my hand._
> 
> _In other words_
> 
> _Darling kiss me_ _…_

Her voice touched something in him. He felt a low hum of arousal starting–-and something else. That ache again. Bittersweet.

“What is that?” Loki asked when she’d finished.

“Frank Sinatra.”

Mad leaned over to look down into Sig’s face. “Sing more, my Sigyn.”

“Mm. I have a better idea.” She hopped up onto her feet with the bottle dangling from one hand. She pointed down at Loki. “How long has it been since you jumped on the bed?”

He frowned. “Why would I jump on a bed?”

Sig’s eyes widened dramatically. “Get up. We are jumping on this bed. Right. Now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

Mad was already on her feet. “I will jump with you, my Sigyn.”

“Yeah! See,” Sig pointed at Mad. “Mad knows where it’s at.”

“Mad knows what?” he laughed.

“Music!” Sig cried, “Play Frank!”

The console in the table bleeped gently and music poured into the air–-a man with a deep, melodious voice singing:

> _That’s life – that’s what people say_
> 
> _You’re riding high in April_
> 
> _Shot down in May_
> 
> _But I know I’m gonna change that tune_
> 
> _When I’m back on top, back on top in June_

And then the both of them were jumping, jostling Loki unmercifully, singing in breathless, strident voices while he laughed and protested and did his best to avoid getting stomped on.

And when the voice in the song started singing,

> _I’ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate_
> 
> _A poet, a pawn and a king_
> 
> _I’ve been up and down and over and out_
> 
> _And I know one thing_

> _Each time I find myself flat on my face_
> 
> _I pick myself up and get back in the race_

Sig looked down at him for a heartbeat and grinned. Her hair was a waving, curling mess, and her face was so bloody gorgeous it damned near stopped his heart. 

It knocked something loose inside him, somehow. The joy of the moment got tangled up in other things, and he looked up at the two of them, grinning and holding onto each other’s arms–-bouncing around like careless children–-and something inside him just quietly…cracked.

For the space of a few heartbeats, he could hardly breathe, and his eyes burned like hell, and if either of them had turned and looked down at him then, they would have seen it. But instead the moment quietly passed, and when it was gone he snatched the bottle from Sig’s hand, took a long swig, and then yanked her down onto the bed so he could kiss her and taste her laughter on his tongue.

 

* * *

 

“Is this Earth music?”

“Yeah.” Sig said, without looking up. “It’s Michael Buble. It was Frank Sinatra earlier." 

They’d run out of wine hours ago and the buzz had mostly worn off. Sig had made them tea and Loki was leaning back negligently against the pillows opposite her, sipping from Mad’s mug. Sig was perched on the end of the bed, painting her toenails an “obnoxious” shade of purple, as he has so eloquently put it. 

“You don’t like Earth music?” she asked.

Silence.

"I can actually  _feel_  you judging me,” she said, applying polish to the third toe of her right foot. “Which is ridiculous, by the way. Earth music is excellent. Also, I happen to have a thing for men with deep, sultry voices.”

There was another beat of silence as she realized exactly what she had just admitted, and to whom. She looked up at him.

“Don’t give me that smug look. I wasn’t talking about you.” Her heart was fluttering traitorously.

Loki tilted his head to one side and gave her a sarcastic little smile.  _Oh, really?_

Pointedly ignoring him, she went back to her nails, finishing up the final two toes on her right foot. Pretending she wasn’t suddenly bombarded by the memory of his mouth on hers.

_Why am I thinking about that?_  It had been brief enough. Just a momentary glide of lips. Almost chaste. Only…it hadn’t  _felt_  chaste.

“The Tolok seems to think you find me attractive.”

_Dammit, Mad._  “Oh, since when?”

“We had a little talk while you were sleeping. A few of them. She tells me I’m your ‘type.’”

Sig gave him an exaggerated look of disdain. “Her name is Mad, and no. Absolutely incorrect." 

"Oh, indeed,” he said mockingly.

“Mmhm. Your face, your hair, all of it—just dreadful. And that’s to say nothing of your cripplingly unattractive physique.”

A beat of silence and then, in that same wry tone. “Charming.”

Repressing a ridiculous surge of giddiness, she made a little bow, gesturing elegantly with the wet lacquer brush.

“You are being untruthful.”

Loki jumped and Sig nearly knocked over the bottle of polish.

Mad had appeared beside him, her pointed face bright with interest.

“Will you  _please_  stop doing that,” Loki grated.

Mads glanced down at him. “This is humor,” she gestured towards Sig, “When you say untruths to each other. It is considered ‘funny.’”

He frowned. “Are you asking, or informing?”

Mad tilted her head quizzically. “I am confirming. Do you find it funny when Sigyn says these things?”

Loki glanced at Sig, eyes glittering with amusement. “You didn’t hear me laughing, did you?”

“But sometimes one doesn’t laugh at funny things, in order to prolong the joke. Is that not true?” The Tolok looked at Sig. “Sig was amused, yet she did not laugh.”

“Toloks don’t get humor,” Sig explained. “She’s been trying to figure it out for ages.” To Mad she said, “If you haven’t got it yet, I’m inclined to think you never will.”

“I am learning,” she replied, and then, with a sly smile, “There is still time.”

Loki chuckled. Sig pursed her lips.  "A time joke from a Tolok. Well done.“

"It is the insults and the untruths that confuse me,” Mad continued, unphased by Sig’s sarcasm. “Why do you find this unkindness amusing?” The last she addressed to Loki.

“I never confirmed that I found it amusing.”

“Yet you knew that Sigyn was being funny,” Mad insisted.

“She certainly thought she was.”

Sig rolled her eyes as she twisted the lid back onto the bottle of nail polish. “I’ve tried to explain it a hundred times,” she said, reaching for her mug.

“'It is called irony,’” Mad quoted. “'When one says the opposite of what one really means.’ Sigyn employs irony frequently during flirtation.”

Sig choked on her tea and began to cough spasmodically.

They both looked at her. Loki’s left brow arched, his lips quirking. She felt her face grow hot. She hadn’t blushed in centuries.  _Centuries!_

“I hate you both,” she wheezed.

“She also occasionally uses it to avoid expressions of honest feeling,” Mad supplied helpfully.

“Ok, I’m done. Goodbye.” Sig threw her legs over the edge of the bed and rose to make her exit.

She was trailed by Loki’s rich laughter and Mad’s voice asking him curiously, “Was that meant to be funny?”

 

* * *

 

He found her on the flight deck an hour later, sitting in the pilot’s chair, the lights from the console casting a dim glow across her face. She was staring out at the passing stars.

Mad was below deck, watching some ridiculous Earth television show called “Doctor Who.”

“So, is this what you do?” he asked, taking the chair beside her. “What you’ve been doing the last five thousand years? Drifting across the universe like vagabonds, watching television, listening to music and jumping on the bed?”

She smiled. “More or less.”

“Seems…”

“What?”

_Idiotic. Pointless. Childish._  “Fun.”

She arched an eyebrow at his sarcasm. “Better to be a devious, throne usurping, human dominating despot?”

“Oh, you’ve looked me up. I’m flattered.” He grinned. “Despot is a strong word, though. I always thought of myself as a benevolent, if mischievous ruler.”

“You’re definitely something,” she said mildly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She rolled her eyes.

“What happens after we arrive at the post?” he asked. “Where will you go?”

“I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew, Loki.”

He felt a very unwanted sting. “And why is that?”

“I know you were eavesdropping earlier.  The less you know, the better it will be for all of us.”

“I think I’ve earned a little honesty here. We’re all friends, aren’t we?”

Her expression darkened. “Oh, are we?”

He bristled unwillingly. “What exactly have I done to garner such suspicion?”

“You mean besides trying to hack the ship’s computer and steal it while I was unconscious?”

He glared.  _Damn that little witch_. “Obviously.”

“Loki,” she began, rotating her chair to face him,  “You don’t get it. Your past, your probable futures. All of that was accessible to Mad the moment our timelines crossed.”

He stared at her stonily, showing nothing.  _Hoping_  that he showed nothing. “I see. So you believe you know me.”

“Of course not. I know what you’ve done. Some of it. Mad couldn’t tell me everything even if I asked.” She paused, watching his face in the dim light. “People do all kinds of things, for all kinds of reasons. You’re the God of Mischief. I won’t pretend to understand your motives. But we can’t trust you. Can we?”

For a long time he didn’t answer, and then finally–-angry and oddly relieved at the same time–-he said, “No, you can’t.”

They looked at each other in the dark for a while, and Loki felt painfully naked under that dark amber stare. But he didn’t look away. Couldn’t. Hating himself, he simply drank her in.

“It’s been fun,” she said softly, and he heard the regret in it.

His heart fisted with resentment and a stinging,  aching sort of hunger that he didn’t want to understand and didn’t try.

“It has,” he said finally.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

  
Sigyn waited a long time before returning below deck. She went into the bathroom and took a long, thoughtful shower, dried her hair and put on a pair of loose pajama pants and a clean tank.

When she came out, Mad was gone. The lights were off. Loki lay silently in the bed, his breathing slow with sleep.

Sig didn’t need sleep–-wouldn’t have been able to achieve a wink of it if she tried. But she crawled quietly into the bed beside him anyway.

He would be gone in a few hours.

As soon as she was under the covers, Loki reached for her. He pulled her right up against his body, her back to his front. And, heart pounding, she let him.

His arms banded around her almost painfully. There was anger in it. And possession.

And then he nuzzled through her hair and gently licked the nape of her neck, dragged it with his teeth. She shuddered, heat and pleasure sparking in her breasts, between her legs.

His hand slid lazily over her ribcage and down. Back up again, bracketing the outer curve of her breast with thumb and fingers, not quite touching. Waiting for a rejection.

She gave none.

And then her breast was filling his hand and the breath hissed from her lungs. He cupped it, squeezed, drew the nipple tight between his fingertips until she made a sound. A desperate little cry of pleasure. A plea.

He bit her shoulder, right where it met with her neck. She stiffened against him, gasping silently. His hand sunk to her belly, found the edge of her pants, pushed them low, exposing her panties, then trailed the upper edge of the thin material and then shifted over to her hip. Followed along the seam and down to the crease where thigh and pelvis met. And then he cupped her, fingertips pressing deep between her thighs–-not penetrating, just holding her back hard against his erection.

He was breathing fast. His heart pounding against her back, a match for her own pulse, her own breath. She opened her legs just a fraction and his fingers slipped under the edge of the fabric and parted naked flesh. The sound he made when he found her wet nearly sent her over the edge.

He _growled_. Like an animal.

His fingertips circled her clit once and made her jerk with pleasure. And then he was biting her again at the same moment his fingers found the mouth of her sex and slipped inside.

Pleasure whipped and hummed along every nerve ending. She squeezed him without meaning to and he growled again, pushing deeper, raking his teeth along her shoulder, his other arm folding up from underneath so he could grip her breast, holding her hostage between one pleasure and another.

And then he took up a rhythm, thrusting, grinding against her clit with the base of his hand even as his fingers curled and stroked inside her and his other hand rolled her breast and made it throb.

She sobbed–-shocking herself with the sound–-bucking in his arms. Reached back and gripped his thigh and rode the hot ridge of his sex with her ass.

And then he let go of her breast and both hands were jammed between her legs, fingers of one hand still pumping in and out while he ringed her clit again and again and again with the tips of the others.

Sig’s whole body seemed to burn and crackle. She was keening, she realized distantly. Whimpering like a wounded animal–-skewered, pinned, strung tight between his hands and his big body.

His mouth found her ear and he was sucking hard on the little lobe of flesh, biting that too, worrying at it while he worked her faster with his hands.

Abruptly the pleasure was too much–-she couldn’t breathe anymore, couldn’t make a sound. His fingers were so hot inside her, searing her clit too, in tight little circles, wet and fast, making her gasp and grab hold of his forearms and dig her nails in deep.

And then he released her earlobe with a wet little pop.

“ _Come_ ,” he commanded.

That single syllable was as deep and dark as midnight.

On a high, soundless scream, she shattered.

 

* * *

 

 

He disappeared almost the moment they stepped off the ship. He’d given them both a sarcastic little goodbye speech just before they landed–- _Well, ladies, it’s been such a pleasure_ –-showing none of the emotion he’d revealed to Sig.

And then he’d saluted them mockingly at the door and strode off without a backward glance.

 _Well, that’s that,_ Sig thought, with a dull sort of resignation.

“It’s alright my Sigyn.”

Sig turned away just as Loki rounded the corner outside the docking bay and was gone for good. She smiled at Mad, hoping it didn’t look as empty as it felt. “Of course it will. So long as you stay on the ship. I’m just going to refuel and load up on supplies. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“You won’t gamble?” Mad looked up at her, wide-eyed.

“Don’t give me that innocent look. We both know Loki will be at the tables.“ He’d said as much the day before when Mad had (rather inexplicably, considering that she probably already knew) asked him what his plans were. “Plus, we still have plenty of credits from last time,” Sig continued, “and it’s not safe to linger. Now promise me you’ll stay on the ship.”

Mad bobbed her head. “I promise, my Sigyn.”

But the little Tolok had a glitter in her eye that Sig had seen before. Which meant she was orchestrating even now, dammit.

It should be easy to trust a being with millennia of experience manipulating timelines, but a Tolok’s definition of a positive outcome could be vastly different from the average person’s.

Sig coped with this knowledge–-and the knowledge that there wasn’t a damned thing she could do to stop Mad from orchestrating–-by reminding herself that whatever her own timeline had held was probably no better–-and quite possibly much worse-–than whatever Mad chose. At least Mad would keep them alive.

Beyond that, Sig was resigned to the same sort of ignorance most people enjoyed concerning their futures. Mad wouldn’t tell her even if she asked.

Not that Sig had any interest in knowing.

“Live for the present,” she mumbled to herself as she left the ship and headed for the marketplace.

 

* * *

 

The market was in an enormous warehouse-style room teeming with hundreds of people of every conceivable race and species.

She wasn’t out ten minutes before a group of mercs cornered her by the fruit vendor.

“Hey, you. With the ass.” The voice was deep and gravelly, issuing from a height of about eight feet in the air and three feet behind her. She could smell him, too, even among the pungent smells of alien food and other body odors.

_Ugh._

Slowly, a sack of fruit in one hand and the other resting smartly on her hip, she turned.

“That’s not a very nice way to approach a lady,” she said mildly.

He was huge. Some kind of reptilian. His skin was mottled grey and brown, eyes slit-pupiled and a sickly shade of orange. He had to be 800 pounds of solid muscle. And he had two lackeys–reptilian too, but smaller, of a lower caste. They had flanked her already.

“You ain’t no lady,” the big one sneered, “But I’d have a go at you anyway–-if you wasn’t about to make me a hundred thousand credits.”

_Oh, gross._

The people standing closest to them seemed to shrink back as a unit, leaving Sig and her three new friends a nice wide berth to see their little tet-a-tet to its conclusion.

“A hundred thousand, huh? Is that all?” She watched him reach for the enormous gun strapped to his back. “I wasn’t aware that I had a record. Sure you’ve got the right gal?”

He flipped the gun into one meaty claw and pulled out his handheld with the other. The holo-screen popped up with a picture of Sig’s face and the fee for her capture in bright red letters beside it. The list of crimes was unreadable from this distance, but it had to be fake, considering her crimes had been pinned on Mad.

“Sure looks like you,” the creature grinned, showing a double row of yellow, needle-sharp teeth. “Anyway, the hundred thou is just a bonus.” He cocked the gun. “Cuz you're gonna give us the Tolok.”

_Motherfu–-_

“I told you no guns,” said a very familiar voice. “They won’t do you any good.”

Sighing, Sig turned. He stepped into the aisle from between two tables laden with alien fruit.

“Hello, Loki.”

He smiled a toothy, devastating smile. “I do hope you won’t take this personally. I am in need of funds, after all.”

“And you think these reptiles are going to give you a share of the bounty?” She rolled her eyes and turned back to the big reptilian. “Even if I could give you the Tolok. I wouldn’t. You’ll have to settle for the hundred thousand.” Not that she had any intention of letting them take her in. It was just easier to let them lead her off someplace less public before she took them down.

The thing sneered, “Cuff her, gents.” And to Loki, “And then you take us to the ship.”

One of the little reptilians slunk forward with the cuffs while the other two held guns on her. Loki just stood there, arms crossed, looking smug.

And then suddenly the air around them began to vibrate and Sig felt a blast of energy–-of magic-–so intense she actually stumbled. The air seemed to shatter and fill with color at once, and it was so bright she had to close her eyes against it.

Loki yelled something–-a cursed denial–-and there was a strange sort of impact that singed the very ground they stood on.

Sig opened her eyes in time to see the big Asgardian from Earth turning to take hold of Loki just as the three reptilians came to their feet, guns drawn.

Sig ducked and flung herself under the nearest table as the first shots were fired.

The Arcturian fruit vendor was huddled there against his crates of back stock. She held up her hands briefly to show she meant him no harm and then rolled to her feet on the other side of the table and took off running for the docking bay, cuffs dangling uselessly from one wrist.

She heard the crackle of lightning and the collective screams of the bystanders, and then the big Asgardian yelled, “Oh no, you don’t!” a moment before he plowed into her from behind.

He spun her around and fisted his hand in the front of her jacket, lifting her straight off the ground. Loki was dangling from his other fist, gripping his brother’s beefy forearm and yelling, “Brother–-Thor-– _don’t_ -–!”

But Sig was already drawing from the power that crackled across his body, gathering it in a growing electrical ball between them.

Thor look at her, and then at the ball of energy, then at the little streams of lighting that seemed to fling themselves from his body and into the ball.

“Do I need to explain what’s going to happen if you don’t put me down?” Sig asked calmly.

But instead of answering he cried, “Heimdall, now!” and the air was ablaze with that power again–-old magic, Sig realized–-and the three of them were racing through a tunnel of rainbow shards, Thor still holding them both by their respective collars.

 

* * *

 

They landed on SHIELD’s front lawn.

Loki cursed. _No, no, no…not this again! No more prison cells!_

Thor lowered him to the ground as the Bifrost released them, but the energy seemed to linger for longer than usual.

And then he looked at the woman still dangling from his brother’s grip.

Sig’s aura was saturated with the multicolored sparkle of the Bifrost. She’d drawn it in and filled herself with it.

She was looking down at Thor with her eyes glowing, shooting rainbow shards of pure rage.

“Put. Me. _Down_.”

Thor put her down. And backed slowly away, dragging Loki with him.

“We mean you no harm, witch,” Thor said placatingly, holding up his free hand in supplication. Above them, Loki spotted a familiar metallic flash in the distant sky, trailing faint blue jets.

Stark. He didn’t come closer, which was smart. Sig would have him grounded in an instant. Clearly, the Avengers were playing it safe.

Sig’s aura pulsed. She stood exactly where Thor had placed her, glaring at him with magic swirling around her, lifting her hair and clothing like a wind.

“Take us back,” she commanded softly.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

Sig spun towards Heimdall’s voice, pinning the yellow-eyed warrior with that glowing stare. He was standing a few yards away, sword held in both hands with the tip pointing straight down into the earth.

“You brought us,” she accused, in that low, icy voice.

Heimdall nodded. “But I cannot return you.”

Thor started backing Loki away again, slowly. Loki slapped at his arm and hissed, “Let go, you fool.”

Sig glanced at them as Heimdall said, “I brought you at my king’s request. For the good of Asgard.”

“I don’t give a shit about Asgard,” she growled.

“Yet, you are Asgardian,” Heimdall replied.

Sig’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Abruptly, she turned her back on Heimdall and pointed at Thor. “Let him go. Tell me what the fuck you want. Maybe I won’t splatter you all on the ground like so much spilt milk.”

Loki almost laughed at the look of offended shock on both men’s faces. Thor let him go. Heimdall didn’t budge.

“For now, we just want to talk,” Thor said, “About the Tolok. We know someone has been tampering with Earth’s timeline.”

Sig stilled.

“We also know your friend’s record was falsified. We just want some answers.”

“Answers,” Sig repeated.

“Yes,” Thor held his hands up again in a soothing gesture. “You know the Timestone is here on Earth.”

The angry color in Sig’s aura abruptly shifted, dimmed. “You idiots haven’t been using it, have you?”

Thor’s face ticced slightly at the word “idiots,” but he replied politely enough, “It’s safe. For now. But there are some…concerns.”

She scowled. “Speak plainly, thunder-boy.”

Thor stiffened, “That’s God of Thunder to you–-"

Heimdall interrupted. “Do you know of Thanos?”

Loki’s stomach dropped. _Oh, shit._

Sig turned, “I know he’s batshit insane.”

“Then you know he searches for the Infinity stones,” Thor grated.

“I’ve heard rumors,” she admitted. “What does that have to do with me and Mad?”

Thor and Heimdall exchanged a look. “We have three of them. Here on Earth,” Thor said finally.

“Sucks to be you.”

Loki could practically see his brother’s patience–-limited as it was–-begin to crack. Thor lunged forward a step angrily, and storm clouds began to gather in the sky above them.

Sig’s aura surged in response. Thor stopped. Visibly attempted to calm himself. “Thanos is coming. Heimdall has seen it.”

“So? Get to the point.”

“Our–-Earth’s wizard–-” Thor started clumsily, “–-The keeper of the Time stone has seen–-well, the timelines have been tampered with. We can’t tell what-–”

“I get it. You think it was Mad.”

“No,” said Heimdall softly. “I have seen your little friend. She is not the one.”

Sig looked at him, and her hard expression slipped just a little. “What have you seen, Watcher?”

“A man. He searches for you. For your friend.”

Sig’s chest rose with a long, heavy breath. The churning of her aura slowed, settled. Her expression became grim. “Is he on Earth?”

“No, I do not believe so. But he is near. He cloaks himself.” Heimdall shifted, bringing the sword to rest at his side. “He is the one who orchestrated the capture of your friend in London.”

Her shoulders dropped and the last light of anger left her aura. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“How about you tell _us_ something,” said Thor.

She shot him a glare, aura sparking again.

“Why is he obscuring the timelines? Is he with Thanos?”

“No.” she replied definitively. “He’s not with Thanos. That’s way too much crazy for one operation.”

“Then why?” Thor demanded. “What is he trying to hide from us?”

“Nothing. He doesn’t give a damn about you. Or Thanos, or the infinity stones.”

“Well, what in the hell does he want, then?”

She shook her head, dropped her chin to her chest. Finally, she looked at Thor and said, “Me. He wants me. He’s obscuring the timelines so Mad can’t see what he’s planning.”

“Mad is your friend,” said Thor. “The Tolok.”

She nodded.

“Why did he give humans the technology to drain her power?”

“So he could use it to manipulate the timelines,” she said, as though it were patently obvious. “And because he knew I would come after her.”

“What does he want you for?”

She sighed, “Listen, I think I’ve been pretty accommodating here, considering you abducted me and dragged me halfway across the universe. How about you tell me why I should cooperate any further?”

Thor looked to Heimdall, who simply raised his brows as though to say, _I’ve got nothing_. Thor turned to Loki.

“Don’t look at me,” he said quickly. "I have nothing to do with it."

“You mean besides the fact that you made a pact with Thanos and used the tesseract and the mind stone to attack New York and try to take over the Earth.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki saw Sig stiffen at the mention of the mind stone.

“What has that got to do with Sig?” Loki gestured to the woman in question.

“Well,” Thor growled, taking hold of Loki’s collar again and yanking him up close, “For starters, if you hadn’t done so, Thanos wouldn’t be headed here now to take the stones, and we wouldn’t be scrambling to figure out how to defeat him, and therefore we wouldn’t need to be able to view the probable timelines in which Earth _isn’t destroyed by an enormous purple madman!_ ”

“I do believe I see where you’re going with this,” Loki replied reasonably, “but I think it’s a bit unfair to lay all the blame at my feet. The humans have had the time stone for centuries, after all, so Thanos would have come to Earth anyway.”

Thor made a choked, animal sound and shook him angrily.

“Alright that’s enough,” said Sig.

Thor looked at her in surprise.

“I might be able to help you with the timeline situation,” she said grudgingly. “However, I do have some conditions.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Conditions,” Fury repeated suspiciously, eyeing Sig up and down. “What kind of conditions?”

They were inside the compound now, in a conference room of some sort. Heimdall, Thor and Loki were there, and the little spy from before, plus a man in a ridiculous, skin-tight military outfit with a big star on the chest. Fury had introduced him as Captain Steve Rogers.

“Where’s the metal man?” Loki asked, just to ruffle them. “And the good doctor?”

Thor said, “Quiet Loki,” at the same time Fury replied, “We thought it best to keep things…as peaceful as possible during these negotiations." He nodded at Sig.

The implication was clear. They had a sense of how powerful she was and they didn’t want to risk setting her off.

_Good._

“Oh, this isn’t a negotiation,” Sig replied. “You want my help? Fine. My terms.”

Fury bristled. “We apologize for the…misunderstanding that occurred at our last meeting. And we appreciate your restraint in that there were no casualties. Despite the damages to our personnel and equipment, SHIELD would like to–”

“Cut the politics,” Sig interrupted, “I don’t have the patience.”

Several mouths opened to retort but Sig barreled forward, ignoring them. “Malik Of Aldur is the man you’re looking for-–well, the man who’s looking for me. You want to clear up the timelines, we have to flush him out. I want a room, complete privacy, and him,“ she pointed at Loki, “to help me.” Looking around at their astonished faces, she added, “The Watcher could be useful also.”

“You want Loki to help you,” Rogers repeated incredulously.

She looked at him. “I’m not going to repeat myself.”

“Why?” Thor asked.

“Because it’s boring and a waste of time.”

“Why  _Loki?_ ” said Romanoff. “The guy is a killer and a megalomaniac. Among other things.” She shot Loki a pointed look.

Loki gave her a mocking little bow.

“Why any of it?” Rogers interrupted. “What are you planning to do?”

“New condition,” Sig replied. “Everybody shut up and stop questioning me.”

A burst of angry denials filled the room. Loki smirked. Sig’s patience was already strained to its limit and the enormous store of old magic she’d absorbed seemed to pulse under her skin, wanting outlet.

“Quiet,” Fury barked, and miraculously everyone quieted. “We need to know that we can trust you,” he said to Sig. “Give us a good reason.”

“Y _ou_  asked  _me_  for help,” Sig grated.

“And now we’re asking you for more. I get it. It’s insulting, but you do understand, our world hangs in the balance.” He strolled slowly around the end of the wide oval conference table, behind Rogers and Romanoff, towards the end where Thor sat with Heimdall behind him. Loki was skulking about near the far wall, watching everything with deceptively lazy eyes.

“You’ve clearly spent some time on Earth,” Fury continued, “Judging from your fluent American slang, I’d say you’ve spent a lot of time here. I’m guessing you like it. Well, we like it here, too. We want our planet to keep on turning, and we’ll do anything and  _everything_  it takes to ensure that happens. But we have to know we’re putting our chips on the right number, you feel me? If we know we share a common goal, that’ll go a long way towards fostering cooperation.”

Sig sighed.  _Manipulative as hell, aren’t you?_  She smiled into Nick Fury’s good eye. 

“Fine,” she conceded. “Let’s start with a little history lesson.”

 

* * *

 

“So this Malik guy is a descendant of the Sennak, the original keepers of the mind stone,” Fury said when Sigyn had finished her tale.

“Yes. After Sennak was destroyed, the survivors settled on Aldur and started to rebuild. After a few thousand years, they began using genetic manipulation to produce warriors. The original Sennak were like the Tolok. Physically frail. Not so good in direct battle.”

“You said the keepers were infused with the powers of the stones, though,” Romanoff interjected. “Wouldn’t that mean the Sennak had the capacity for mind control?” She glanced at Loki. “We’ve seen that power at work directly.”

Sig followed her gaze and Loki gave her a guarded look, sidelong. “Yes,” she said. “But that power is only as strong as the will of the person wielding it.”

“Meaning…” Fury prompted. “It doesn’t work on everybody?”

“Not if the target’s will is stronger than the wielder.”

“So these…Sennak–-or Aldurian?-–people,” Rogers said, “they wanted to make warriors who could wield the power of mind stone for them?”

“They wanted a caste of powerful slaves to fight their battles for them,” she corrected. “They harvested DNA from hundreds of select races and started trying to produce intelligent cross-breed drones, essentially.”

“Drones that could use mind control? That seems…counterproductive,” said Fury.

“In the beginning, they weren’t using their own DNA. That started later when Malik came into power. By that point, the remaining Sennak bloodlines were so intermixed they were unable to produce healthy offspring.”

“You mean incest,” said Thor, grimacing.

Sig nodded. “The Aldurians were all about keeping the bloodlines pure. Until Malik. He decided he was going to create a new, healthy bloodline, starting with his own children.”

“Oh, gross,” said Romanoff. “So he genetically engineered himself a wife?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” said Sig.

“A wife with Aldurian blood and…what else?” Thor asked.

She gave him a pointed look.

There was a moment of confused silence, and the Loki said quietly, in realization, “Asgardian.”

Everybody turned to Sig. She held her hands out from her sides, smiling grimly.  _Ta-da!_

“You’re the wife?” Thor exclaimed in horror.

“I’m one product of thousands of years of genetic manipulation,” she corrected. “I am not his wife.”

“But he wanted you to be,” Romanoff insisted. “That’s why he created you.”

Sig blanched inwardly at the phrase “created you.”

“No. He wanted mothers for his children. But that was only half of the equation. Since he was splicing his own genes with the DNA of advanced warrior races, he had a bit of a problem keeping his little experiments under control.” Sig swallowed the welling of old, jagged feelings. Bitterness had crept into her tone.

“Mind control,” Fury said, with a grave sort of irony in his voice.

“Yes.”

The room welled with silence as they all digested this.

It was Loki who spoke next, in a low, silky tone edged with disgust. “So, he kept you under his spell. Like a slave.”

She met that cold, blue-green gaze, remembering Romanoff’s earlier claim.  _We’ve seen it’s power at work directly._

“Not  _like_ ,”  Sig replied quietly.

Knowledge lurked in Loki’s eyes. And emotion. He’d used that power. Enslaved people with the mind stone.

The knowledge hung between them like a physical presence.

Fury’s voice drew her attention away from the God of Mischief. “So, do you have this power too? Mind control?”

“No. Malik was afraid an Asgardian cross breed with that power would be too difficult to control.”

Thor chuckled. “Seems like even one without the power of the mind stone was too much for him.”

“Don’t make the mistake of underestimating him,” Sig said tightly. “He kept me under control for three and half thousand years.”

“Three thousand years!” Thor’s shock was palpable. “Just how old are you?”

“Well, I’m the one who ended Aldur, so you do the math.”

Shock blanketed the room again. Sig waited, feeling suddenly very tired and…brittle.

Thor broke it. “How long is the average Aldurian lifespan?”

“The original keepers were gifted with extraordinary longevity,” she said, “I imagine the Ancient Ones wanted to ensure the stones were protected for as long as possible.”

“So..?”

She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Malik is at least twenty thousand.”

Three pairs of human eyes widened in disbelief. Thor and Loki simply looked grim.

“Let’s back up here a second,” said Rogers. “This guy raised you and kept you mentally enslaved, knowing he was going to make you his…” he blanched. “Bride?”

“You humans are so obsessed with marriage,” she said wryly. “But, essentially, yes. Although he didn’t know when I was a child that he was going to choose me. Malik cultivated hundreds of genetically modified children of Aldur. Most of them didn’t survive into adulthood.”

“Why not?” said Fury.

Sig sighed. “Mind control is detrimental to the victim, especially over long periods. Most of them went mad and had to be…eliminated.”

“Put down, you mean,” Fury said.

Sig dipped her head in affirmation.

“But not you,” said Thor. “What made you different, that you could survive more than three thousand years of it?”

She shrugged. “Malik believed it was the Asgardian blood.”

“About that,” Thor turned to her, “Your Asgardian ancestry. How did Malik–-who exactly was your-–?” he broke off like he wasn’t sure if the question was somehow offensive.

Sig hesitated. “Her name was Freyja. That’s all I know.”

Thor’s one good eye went impossibly wide. Behind him, Loki straightened sharply.

“Is that significant?” asked Rogers, watching them.

The big Asgardian seemed to be reeling. 

“It is significant,” he said slowly, with wonder. “ _Cousin_.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Romanoff held up a hand in disbelief. “You’re  _related_?”

Thor was still staring at Sig. He nodded. “Freyja was our mother’s Aunt,” he said. “She died long before I was born. Mother spoke of her sometimes.” He looked to Loki, who stood very still against the wall, his face blank. “She-–” he turned back, “You’re a princess of Asgard. A Goddess.”

“Goddess of  _what_?” asked Fury.

Sig’s heart seemed to falter. Everyone was looking at her. The word stuck hard in her throat.

“Yes, Goddess of what?” Thor asked.

Finally, the word tearing itself from her throat, Sig said, “Fidelity.”

 

* * *

 

_Fidelity._

Loki was reeling.

 _Sigyn. The Goddess of Fidelity. Daughter of Freyja, Cousin of Frigga_.

He could still hear Thor calling her  _Cousin_ , with that ghost of wonder in his voice.

 _Family_. They’d lost so much.

But Loki didn’t share his joy. He felt cold. Sig would never be family to him. 

What had she called him?  _Devious, throne-usurping, human-dominating despot._

He’d thought it funny at the time. But now…she was Asgardian  _royalty,_ for God’s sake!

And he was…

_Criminal. Betrayer. Jotun._

Bitterness rose like bile at the back of his throat.

He’d held her in his arms mere hours ago and brought her to quivering orgasm with just his hands. The sweet, searing heat of the memory was corrupted now. 

_Cousin._

But what did it matter? He hadn’t expected to get another taste of her anyway. Why was he even thinking of it?

They were still talking, the lot of them. Sigyn’s voice brought him abruptly back to present.

“It was Mad that freed me from him, actually. He went after her because Toloks can manipulate anything related to time, including memories. Mind control wasn’t enough to keep his best creations fully subdued, so he wanted to use Mad’s power to alter their memories. Keep them faithful to him.”

“You say ‘them’…” Romanoff hedged.

“I was already faithful,” Sig said matter-of-factly. “That’s why I was his favorite.”

“Goddess of Fidelity,” Thor repeated softly, echoing Loki’s thoughts.

Sig nodded grimly.

“But you said he used mind control,” said Rogers, obviously confused.

“He did. He wanted us to love him, though, and he used his power to create that experience for us, from childhood. And then he tortured us, made us kill. Used us like work animals. Most of the others eventually began to resist. But for me…” she shrugged again and there was something very brittle about it. “Fidelity is a curse.”

Loki felt a surge of violent emotion, looking at her. Rage, possession. Hunger. The fierce desire to tear her enemies to shreds.

It horrified him. Shoving those feelings away, he straightened from the wall. “You were the perfect slave.”

She looked at him and her face was blank, but the emotion lurking behind her amber eyes made him feel a spike of shame.

“I was,” she said quietly. “I did everything he asked of me. I even believed I wanted to.” She looked at the humans and confessed in calm, steady voice, “I helped him enslave thousands of people. Destroy entire races. Planets. I was his personal weapon.”

Rogers sat back hard in his chair. Romanoff regarded Sig with something akin to respect. Fury stood behind them, arms crossed, expression grim.

Thor said, “But you were under his control. You didn’t have a choice.” There was compassion in his tone. Exoneration.

Sig turned on him sharply. “That’s not how it felt. His power is insidious. Consuming. I remember everything I did for him. I remember  _wanting_  to do it. Taking pleasure in it, because I knew it would please him.” Her gaze shifted to Loki, pinned him where he stood. “I loved him.”

It was like a dagger, that look. Those words.

“You believed you did,” Loki replied, surprising himself.

“What’s the difference? I felt love.” She turned back to the others. “Because that’s what he wanted me to feel. That’s what you’re up against. If he comes here, he’ll lay you all to waste. I hate to say it, but humans are easy targets. He would have you all at his feet in hours.”

Fury said incredulously, “He’s powerful enough to enslave seven billion people at once?”

“No, but he’s more than powerful enough to enslave the few it would take to make the rest of you fall in line.”

“You said he only wants you. Why would he bother with us?” This from Romanoff.

“He probably won’t. But he’ll do whatever it takes to get ahold of me, and if he does, he might make me turn you all inside out just for fun. Unless you have something worth taking–-technology, natural resources, anything he can use to rebuild his empire. And then he’ll tear this planet apart to get it.”

Rogers and Romanoff exchanged a meaningful look.

“Okay,” Fury said, into the heavy silence that followed. “How do we stop him?”

Sig looked at him steadily. “It’s pretty simple. You give me whatever I ask for, you don’t ask questions, and when the time comes, you let me go.”

They digested that for a moment.

“Are we just going to trust that everything she says is true?” said Rogers. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t, but this is a lot to swallow.”

“She speaks the truth.”

Heimdall’s quiet statement brought every head swinging around.

“You know this?” Thor demanded.

Heimdall nodded. “It is my duty to watch over all of Asgard. Even those cast away.”

There was a beat of silence as the realization hit.

“You  _knew_  about her!” Loki hissed in outrage. “ _Odin_  knew? And he left her to that madman?”

Heimdall shook his head. “It is…complicated. Freya was lost to Asgard generations ago. I learned of her when I took my position as keeper of the Bifrost.”

Thor asked quietly. “Why was she not rescued?”

Heimdall regarded his king gravely. “Aldur was very distant from the nine realms. Asgard was in the midst of war when Frejya was taken. It was decided that attempting to rescue her would be…foolhardy.” 

“Decided by whom?” Loki demanded.

“By Odin’s father.” The Watcher looked to Sig. “Freya had always been wild. Troublesome. When she disappeared, no one thought to search for her. It was believed that she had abandoned Asgard of her own will. The knowledge of her fate was kept a secret by the throne.”

Sig’s face was still. Unreadable. Loki wanted to break something. Forced himself to stand motionless and remain quiet as Heimdall continued.

“When Odin took the throne I was sworn to secrecy. To rescue you, even then, would have been a great risk to Asgard.” He met Thor’s stunned gaze. “Aldur was at the peak of its power. And you…”

“You don’t owe me any apologies,” Sig cut him off. “I didn’t want to be rescued.”

“But– _three and a half thousand years-_ –“ Thor exclaimed. “All that time you-–”

“I hate to interrupt, but I can’t help thinking we’ve gotten off topic,” said Fury.

Thor turned as though to protest and Loki found himself biting back a snarl.

“He’s right,” Sig said. “The past is the past. There are more important issues to attend to.” To Heimdall, she said, “How long til Thanos arrives?”

“A few days, perhaps.”

“Then we’d better get on with it.”

“I still want to know why you want Loki,” said Romanoff unexpectedly.

Sig shook her head, arms crossed. “The less you know, the less Malik can rip out of you if he gets you under his spell–-and the less likely he’ll be able to anticipate my plans.”

“You can’t trust him,” the spy said stubbornly, glancing at Loki. “He’s a two-legged snake.”

“Standing right here,” Loki drawled, still seething.

“Oh, good, I was worried you couldn’t hear,” Romanoff smiled at him sweetly.

“Trust is not a requirement for me,” said Sigyn said impatiently. “And I don’t give a shit what he’s done.”

The humans were clearly taken aback. Thor gave her an appraising look.

Rogers began angrily, “He  _murdered-_ –“

“A hell of a lot fewer people than I have,” Sig interrupted. “Get a little perspective, guys. This isn’t about Loki. You want your timelines cleared so you can defeat Thanos. I hope you succeed. You were right, Fury. I like this planet. But that’s beside the issue.” She pointed at Loki.  “I need him. And by extension, you need him. So suck it up, and let’s get cracking.”

“You said you might need Heimdall, too,” said Thor.

Sig nodded. “I might. Give me some time to formulate a plan.”

“What about me?” Thor returned, “Perhaps it doesn’t mean much to you, but we are family. Let me help you.”

Sig regarded him completely without rancor. “You’re right, it doesn’t mean much. To be quite frank, it doesn’t mean anything at all.”

Loki felt a twisting sensation in his chest.

“However…” she trailed off, looking at the God of Thunder, “It may be that you’ll come in handy. If that’s the case…” she shrugged. “I’ll let you know.”

“We need you to include at least one of ours in your plans,” said Fury. “One we can trust.”

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” Sig said flatly.

“That’s a bold statement,” said Rogers, offended.

She gave him a sardonic look. “It’s a fact.”

“Alright,” Fury intervened as Rogers bristled. “We’ll give you three hours. Whatever you need. Keep us in the loop as much as possible. We’ll have Strange checking the timelines regularly.”

Rogers and Romanoff gave him identical looks of disbelief.

“Fine,” Sig replied, ignoring them. “Let’s get on with it.”

 

* * *

 

When Romanoff, at Fury’s nod, took Sig off to the private room she’d asked for, Thor pulled Loki aside.

“Loki, promise me you won’t screw this up.”

“Now why would I do that, Brother?” Loki replied mockingly. “What would I stand to gain?”

“Loki…”

“Honestly, Thor, do you think I want to meet Thanos again?” he snapped. “He’ll kill me on the spot. I have everything to gain by helping you now.”

Thor relaxed. “I guess that’s true.”

“And if Sig happens to need me to come along with her off-planet, all the better. I was getting tired of waiting for you to convince the humans to let me out of prison. I don’t think I’d like to revisit that experience.”

Thor grabbed him by the shoulders hard, with a look of angry desperation. “You are not leaving here, Loki. Earth is your home now.  _Our_  home. If you fight with us against Thanos, the humans will forget their grudge.”

“Pretty words, Thor. Lovely sentiment. I’m inclined to disbelieve it, however,” Loki replied bitterly. “And besides, what place is there for me on Earth? I’m the God of Mischief, Brother. Do you honestly think I can settle here and be peaceful?”

Thor’s entire demeanor slumped a little in defeat. “I suppose it’s too much to hope.”

Loki patted one broad shoulder. “It’s better this way, brother. The humans would never accept me.”

Thor’s blue eye took on a sudden speculative look. “Our cousin seems to accept you, though, doesn’t she?”

“She… tolerates me,” Loki replied warily.

“And you believe she’ll take you along when she leaves Earth?”

“I may be able to convince her.”

Thor narrowed a suspicious look at him. “You’ve been with her this whole time. What exactly is your relationship, hm?”

Loki shrugged dismissively to hide his discomfort. “She’s been useful.”

“You defended her just now. You were angry on her behalf.”

 _Shit._  “Was I?”

“You  _like_  her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s merely a means to an end. I want off this planet, and she’s equipped to help me.”

Thor ignored that. “She’s powerful, intelligent, quick on her feet, and a bit brutal.” Thor grinned. “Easy enough on the eyes, too.“

“Having incestuous thoughts, Brother?”

Thor laughed a loud, honest laugh. “No, but I’ll bet you are. Lucky you’re adopted, eh?” He slapped Loki roughly on the back.

“You are disgusting,” Loki grated.

Thor laughed again and clasped Loki’s shoulder, giving him an affectionate little shake. “She’s a good match for you, if there ever was one. I wish you well of it, brother. Perhaps you can come back and visit when everything is said and done.”

“Perhaps,” Loki replied, wondering.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Fury insisted that Thor and Rogers escort Loki to Sigyn’s room, along with a pair of guards who would stand watch outside to make sure he didn’t “wander off and get himself into trouble.”

“This feels familiar,” he said, with the four of them flanking him along the halls. “Are you sure you don’t want to cuff me?”

“Don’t tempt me,” said Rogers.

Loki smirked.

“Behave yourself, Brother,” Thor said when they stepped out of the elevator on the housing floor. “I’ve given Fury my word that you’ll do so.”

Loki laughed. “That was foolish of you. Do you think he believed it?”

“This is a mistake,” Rogers said in a clipped voice before Thor could respond. The human turned to Loki as they arrived outside what he assumed was Sig’s door. “It puts a mighty bad taste in my mouth that we have to rely on you in all this.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Oh, wait. I’m not.” He grinned. 

Rogers looked past him at Thor. “I still say we hand him over to Thanos as a peace offering.”

“That would accomplish nothing,” Thor replied, knocking on the door. “It’s the stones he wants.”

“Still,” Rogers shrugged one shoulder as the door clicked. “It would be satisfying.”

“Not for me,” Thor said, then pasted on a smile as the door swung open on Sigyn…

…with wet hair and wearing nothing but a thin cotton bathrobe.

“Took you long enough,” was all she said. Supremely unselfconscious, as usual.

Loki didn’t have to look at the other two men to know they were gawking. He’d seen her bare legs before. In fact, he’d seen quite a lot more of her than was currently on display.  Still, something about the wet-slick hair and the soft clinging fabric made his mouth go utterly dry and his blood start rushing south.

Rogers cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes. Well. Here he is. As promised.” He shoved Loki forward and Sig frowned at the human as she stepped aside to let Loki pass.

“I don’t suppose we could get some food?” she said, looking between Thor and Rogers. “Like, a lot of it?”

Loki skulked towards the couch, aroused and irritated. And hungry, he realized.

“Ah, sure. Yes. Absolutely,” Thor stuttered.

They conversed a few moments longer about food and the arrangements with the guard while Loki looked around at the room.

It was spare but comfortable. A puffy armchair and matching white couch arranged around a low glass-topped table, opposite the large entertainment console. Beyond that was a miniature kitchen with the usual human accouterments. White marble counters, stainless steel sinks, a low refrigerator, and cooking range. Beyond that still, the double doors to the sleeping chamber stood open,  showing a large bed made up in simple, pristine white bedding. Sig’s clothes lay draped over the vanity beside the bed, one boot on its side a few feet away.

He heard the door click shut and turned just as she did.  They faced each other across the living room.

“I was expecting you to be angry,” he said.

Her brows rose. “Why?”

“The trading post?”

“Oh, that.” She made a dismissive gesture and then paused. “Come to think of it, what  _was_  that? You didn’t actually think those idiots were gonna take me in.”

“Obviously. I figured you’d lay them out and then I’d take whatever they had. Money, weapons. Hopefully their ship.”

Her mouth quirked. “Right. Of course.”

“And,” he added unrepentantly, “If they had succeeded, there would have been a tidy fee in it for me. Win-win.”

Sig rolled her eyes and crossed to the couch. “You could have told me. I would have cooperated.”

He blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him.

“I would have chosen a less public location,” she added, sitting down with her legs folded primly beneath her. 

“Why?” he rounded the behind the puffy chair and plucked a folded pamphlet off the counter. It was a list of phone codes for the different SHEILD departments.

“There were a lot of witnesses. I do like to keep a low profile. Not that it matters now.”

“Noted,” he said, setting the pamphlet down and crossing his arms. “So. You need me for something.”

“Yes,” she ignored his snideness. “For starters, I need help cloaking this room so nobody can listen in.” She shifted and the robe gaped around her legs for a moment before she straightened it.

Swallowing a surge of lust, Loki leaned back against the counter. “The cloaking spells on your ship were pretty advanced. They certainly kept Heimdall from finding us.”

“I had help with that. Spells are not my strong suit.”

There was something gratifying about Sig asking him for help. His irritation melted away under that sensation.

“Fine,” he said. “Did you check for surveillance equipment already? SHIELD has a penchant for spy work.”

She nodded. “We’re clean.”

“Good.” He began to draw on his sorcery, green light gathering in his palms, creeping up his arms. “Just out of curiosity, why didn’t you use the Bifrost energy? Couldn’t you have sent us back that way? Or at least yourself.”

She watched him casting the cloaking spell as she answered, “Old magic is wily. It has a mind of its own. I’m not sure I can control it to that extent. We might have ended up floating in dead space.”

That “we” was also gratifying. Loki gritted his teeth against the unwilling pleasure of knowing that she would not have abandoned him on Earth.

He cast the cloaking spell. The walls, ceiling, and floors of the room glowed briefly with his magic. When they had dimmed, he turned to her, “Your aura is still saturated. How long can you hold on to that?”

She shrugged. “Indefinitely?”

“You’ll have to use it sometime.”

“Right now it’s fueling my metabolism.”

 _Interesting_. “Is that why you don’t have to eat and sleep regularly?”

She nodded. “Also maybe why I haven’t aged in a few thousand years.”

“I thought that was the Aldurian lifespan at work.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I don’t really have any basis for comparison. Are we fully cloaked?”

“We are. There weren’t any other Asgardian children of Aldur?”

“No. Freyja died before Malik could create others, and he wasn’t able to manipulate Asgardian DNA directly.” She smiled. “Your race is stubborn and defiant down to its very mitochondria.”

“ _Your_  race,” he said, with sudden resentment. “Not mine.”

Sig frowned. “Says the crowned Prince of Asgard.”

Loki sneered. “My mitochondria are Jotun.”

“Right,” she said faintly, watching him with impassive, penetrating amber eyes. “Your energy is Asgardian though. So are your gifts.”

“Not all of them.” He turned away from her, paced to the windows. “Speaking of gifts, what power comes from Fidelity?” he asked, then looked around when she didn’t answer.

Her expression was reluctant. “A bonding spell.”

 _Ah_.  _Of course_. “That’s what kept you loyal to Malik.”

“It’s also what’s going to help us find him. And kill him.” She said it matter of factly, but there was a flinty look in her eyes.

“You can track him using the bond?”

“Yes.”

He realized something. “You’re bonded to Mad as well, aren’t you? That’s how you found her at SHIELD. How you knew she was dying.”

She nodded. “But it goes both ways. As soon as I connect with Malik, he’ll know where I am, too. That’s why I need your help.”

Loki felt a familiar, curling sort of anticipation, mischief lighting along his every nerve. “Go on.”

She told him her plan. And  _oh_ , it was good. Clever, devious, brutal. As good as anything he could come up with himself.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand, though,” he said when she’d finished. “The fidelity bond makes you susceptible to mind control. How do we keep him from enslaving you again?”

“About that…” she trailed off at the same time as someone knocked on the door. 

“That’ll be the food.” She made as if to stand and Loki held up a hand, rising himself.

“I’ll get it,” he said. “Perhaps you should get dressed.” She was still in that ridiculous, flimsy robe, and damned if it didn’t make his hackles rise to think of more of Fury’s minions ogling her in it.

She didn’t move from the chair though. He caught her surprised look as he turned away.

It was Romanoff at the door with two bundles of clothing and a woman in blue scrubs pushing a dinner cart.

The smell of food made Loki’s stomach twist with hunger. It had been nearly a week since he’d had a proper meal.

“The Asgardians sent these for you,” Romanoff thrust the bundles at him. “There are clothes for Sigyn as well.”

He ignored the woman’s snide look as he took the items and pulled the cart inside.

“You can dial nine if you need anything else.” Her gaze shifted past him to Sigyn, and her expression went from surprise to suspicion.

He shut the door in her face.

“That was rude,” Sig sounded amused.

“It was,” he smiled, pushing the cart over next to the couch. “Hungry?”

She bounced up out of the chair with palpable eagerness. “I am  _ravenous_.”

“Me too,” he said, watching her lean over the cart and start pulling lids off of trays, robe clinging to the curves of her breasts.  _And not just for food_.

 

* * *

 

“So,” he said when they’d stuffed themselves and sat for a while in companionable silence. “About Malik.”

“Mm.” Sig was lying back in the chair, legs drawn up and tucked to one side, head resting against the cushion. She looked supremely…satiated.

It made his blood heat to look at her.

“How will you keep him from enslaving you again?”

She rolled her head towards him.

“As long as he doesn’t get a hold of Mad, I can resist him.”

“Because of your bond of Fidelity?”

“Yes.”

“How does that work? The one bond cancels out the other?”

“Something like that. I’m not really sure, but the bond I have with Mad is stronger. When she’s nearby, Malik can’t compete.”

He watched her for a moment. “We’re going to kill him?”

“Ideally, yes. He’ll just keep coming after us if we don’t. Last time he nearly killed Mad. And he–-" she cut herself off.

“And?”

“He made me do things. Kill.” She waved that away, and the gesture was just a little too hurried. Almost desperate.

“Is that all?”

He said it softly, carefully. It was clear on her face that she understood what it meant--what he was really asking.

The Avengers had been polite enough not to broach it, though they must have suspected.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

Loki was silent. She didn’t look at him. Her mouth compressed into a thin line, lips going bloodless. 

He shouldn’t have asked. What business was it of his? But the question had been burning a hole in his tongue since their little meeting with the Avengers.

_What did he do to you?_

The man who’d raised her as a slave and a broodmare. The man who should have been a  _father_  to her.

“Did you give him children?” he asked very softly.

“ _No_ ,” she snapped. And then came abruptly to her feet, turning as though to go to the bedroom.

He caught her arm as she passed and pulled her back hard.

Unwillingly, she looked down into his face.

He made himself hold her gaze, willing her to see. No pity. No scorn. Not a trace of disgust. Just anger.

Deep, welling anger.

Loki’s heart was pounding. She looked at him with betrayal in her eyes and said hoarsely, “Let go.”

His fingers involuntarily tightened on her arm.

“Did you want him?” he said roughly, knowing it was cruel. Needing to know. To understand what she’d been through. “Did he  _make_  you want him?”

Her gaze darkened with shock, and then she slapped him, good and hard.

He let go of her arm and sat back into the couch, face stinging smartly. She stood there, pale and furious. Wounded.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

“ _Why?_ ”

He shook his head.  _I don’t know, I don’t know_. And then the words just tumbled from his mouth.

“I want you.”

It came out rough and almost voiceless. He should feel ashamed, he thought, but he didn’t. Suddenly it was very simple.

He wanted her. For himself. Not to gain anything, or prove anything. Not to show anyone his worth. Just because she was Sig and she set him on fire and  _he_   _bloody well wanted her_.

Half a dozen minute expressions flitted across her face. He recognized surprise and hesitation. A flicker of longing that made his heart soar and his body tighten. And all of it inexplicably overlaid with regret.

“What does that have to do with Malik?” she asked quietly.

“Nothing,” he rasped, heart pounding. “Everything.”

She looked away, expression one of stark indecision.

It stung unbelievably, that tiny gesture of reluctance. Yet Loki held himself still, strung tight with anticipation, understanding that she hadn’t decided yet. That she might still accept him.

And then she said softly, “I’m going to take a bath,” and she looked at him sidelong, gaze filled with emotion.

Desire. Regret.

It wasn’t a confirmation. Nor was it a rejection.

“Alright,” he said, at a loss.

 

* * *

 

Loki looked towards the bedroom. For the last fifteen minutes, he’d been subjected to the quiet, wet sounds of Sig in the bath. The squeak of her flesh against porcelain, the slosh of water. Her little sighs of contentment.

He was beginning to think she’d left the doors open just to torment him.

And then it occurred to him that maybe she’d left them open as an invitation.

The thought of her naked in the tub made him burn.

He stood slowly, drifted to the threshold of the bedroom. He could see the entrance to the bath. The glossy white corner of the tub. The robe she’d discarded was draped carefully over the porcelain lip.

He turned and paced away, still burning. Hunger and frustration. A sharp edge of humiliation.

Why had he confessed? What idiotic urge had possessed him to lay himself so bare? He felt like a fool.

But she hadn’t turned him away.

The door was open.

He turned back. Went to the door again. Looked at the edge of the tub, the carefully draped robe.

“Sig,” he said. That single syllable seared his throat.

“Loki,” she replied quietly.

Now what? What could he say? Nothing came. Frustration coalesced into anger. He gripped the door jam and fought not to curse.

“Come in.”

The quiet invitation paralyzed him for a moment. And then he was moving forward, across the bedroom, boots stepping from carpet to tile.

She looked up at him from the tub, hair slicked back, water lapping gently at her chin and around her knees.

Anger warring with other, more pleasant feelings, he simply looked at her. The water was crystal clear. Every inch of her visible.

Long, long legs. Naked shoulders. Breasts tipped with very pale, rosy nipples. Smooth, taut belly. Dark golden pubic hair.

Blood began to pound in his temples.

“You may get more than you bargained for,” she murmured.

Aggression coiled inside him. “I am not bargaining.”

Her eyelashes were wet and dark. Her eyes darker. “Meaning?”

“I want you. Either you give yourself to me or you don’t.”

She seemed to consider that. To consider him. Her gaze roamed his face, dipped down his body. “There are levels to giving of oneself.”

Unwilling to acknowledge the unspoken question, he waited.

“What are you offering  _me_ , Loki?”

He nearly growled, “Get out of that tub and I’ll show you.”

The silence was filled with the thrum of Loki’s pulse–-the secret pounding of his heart in his ears.

And then she stood, water sluicing off of naked skin. One long leg lifted over the edge of the tub, dripping onto the bare tile, and then the other.

She was standing very close, staring at his chest. Loki was painfully aware that he was breathing hard. And then she tilted her head back and met his gaze.

He took hold of her almost violently and backed her up against the wall beside the tub. Pinned her there with his body and kissed her fiercely, tongue delving. Her lips parted, butter-soft and deliciously warm. She took his tongue and suckled it, meeting his aggression with slow, stunning sensuality–-dulling his anger, making him groan.

He softened unwillingly. Found himself retreating to lick her lips and draw her tongue into his mouth. Suckling her as she had suckled him. Hands gentle now, stroking warm, wet skin. Her hips, her sides. Cupping her breasts, making her shudder.

He pulled back and looked down, hungry for the sight of her–-rounded flesh filling his palms, silky-soft and pliable. He lifted her breasts so he could suck the tips into tight little points and then shuddered with pleasure when her hands slid into his hair.

His cock throbbed. He grabbed one of her hands and pulled it between their bodies, molded her fingers around his erection.

“Touch me,” he rasped and groaned hoarsely when she began to stroke him through the leather.  

“ _Yes_ ,” he hissed against her mouth, kissing her again, sucking her lips. “ _More_.”

She fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers and he held himself still while she freed him, rolling her breasts with both hands, kissing her deeply, tongue gliding against tongue.

And then he thrust into her palms and growled with renewed aggression while she worked his naked cock in her hands.

She was doing it again–-touching him like the very sensation of his sex was a delight to her. Searching his flesh with her fingers, pulling and stroking and exploring.

He released her mouth to look down again, still gripping her breasts, breath rasping in a voiceless moan at the sight of her hands on him.

He pushed closer as the pleasure spiked, pressing into her belly. Let go of her breasts to pull her hands away and thrust his cock into the hollow of her hip, bending to kiss her again while he tore at the fastenings of his jacket, suddenly desperate for the sensation of her–-skin against skin.

When the jacket was gone and he’d ripped the undershirt off over his head he pressed her tight to the wall, flattening her there with her breasts to his chest, her belly quivering against his.

She said his name, low and heady, and he pushed his knee between her legs, lifting it until he could feel the heat of her sex on his thigh. A moment later he pulled back again and put his fingers there, parting the lips in a slow glide that made her jerk and gasp in his arms.

 _Wet_ , he thought, on a savage surge of lust, stroking her, pushing his fingers inside, sucking her mouth and drinking her gasps.

She cried out and clenched around him, and in the next moment, he was lifting one of her legs, spreading her wide, thrusting his cock into her with a single, ferocious lunge.

Sigyn cried out again, and he knew he should slow, because she was tight, so tight–-but hot and wet, too, and it made him wild, mindless. He lifted her against the wall and thrust again, and again, breathing hard into the crook of her neck, riding her with complete abandon, biting her shoulder, making her gasp.

She came without warning. One moment she was whimpering sweetly into his ear and the next she had pulled tight around him, stiffening in his arms on a sharp, breathy cry. Her sex fisted on his cock, thighs clamping around his hips so tightly it slowed his thrusts.

He was distantly aware that he was talking to her, urging her on in a low, growling voice while he pumped into the rippling grip of her pussy.

_Yes, Sig. Come for me–-ahh-–so sweet, so tight! That’s good, baby, so good!_

And then his own orgasm struck him with incredible force, tearing a harsh, guttural cry from his throat as he bucked against her, driving himself deep, pleasure blasting up his spine and pouring from the tip of his cock like magma.

She moved herself on him in the final throes and he held her there, rocked by the intensity of it, listening to her desperate little sounds of pleasure. Inflamed by the way she dug her heels into his ass and raked his naked back with her nails.

And when it was over his legs refused to hold him anymore. They slid to the floor as one and Loki leaned into her, resting his forehead against the wall above her shoulder, their chests heaving in perfect unison, the inner muscles of her sex still fluttering deliciously around him.

Her hands slid up his back, slow and tender, and sunk into his hair. How that simple touch could feel so damn good in the wake of what they’d just done, he had no idea, but it made him shiver with pleasure, heart expanding. He turned his face into her neck, arms tightening around her.

Into that moment of inexplicable tenderness, she whispered, “Forgive me.”

Magic surged directly from her body to his, connecting them like an electrical circuit, snatching the breath from his lungs on a crackling burst that set his very bones on fire. With it came a blast of raw emotion-–it struck him like a plasma blast to the chest–-tore a single, ragged sob from his throat. And then it was gone and only the ebbing crackle of energy remained, racing along his nerve endings like fine electrical currents.

“ _What–-?_ ” he rasped, pulling back on shaky limbs to look at her.

Regret was there on her face. “I wasn’t lying when I said I needed you.”

“ _What have you done?_ ”

Her hands were still in his hair. She let them slide down, thumbs brushing his jaw. Her expression was soft, grave.

“Fidelity,” she murmured. 


	9. Chapter 9

He was furious.

Sig sat on the edge of the bed in the bathrobe, legs folded beneath her, and watched him pace. He was still shirtless and flushed, hair a wavy, curling mess.

“Why did you do it?” he demanded.

She hesitated and he stopped pacing to pin her with an icy glare.

“Mad,” she said reluctantly.

Glowering, he waited.

“She’s vulnerable. Malik can control her. I need someone there who can resist him. Someone with the bond. You seemed like the best candidate.”

His face was stiff with outrage. “And it didn’t occur to you to let me in on–-"

“Would you have agreed to it?”

He scowled. Didn’t answer.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. This is about survival.”

“You’d do anything to protect her.” He said it bitterly.

“And me.”

He stalked her across the room, moving like a big cat, eyes glittering. “And what did you think I would do?”

Tilting her head to look up at him as he neared, she said, “This.”

Standing over her menacingly, he growled, “Why the sex, then?”

Sig blinked. “Isn’t that self-explanatory?”

“A consolation prize?” he countered snidely.

“Don’t be gross.”

“Why me? You could have chosen Thor. He would have done it willingly.”

“I really hope you don’t mean sex.”

He snarled. “ _You know what I meant._ ”

Sighing, she let her feet slip off the mattress. He was standing so close that her knees fell on either side of his legs. His gaze flicked downward, flaring with heat.

God, his combination of temper and sexual aggression was heady. She’d dampened the bond as much as possible so he couldn’t read her, but she could still feel a trickle of his emotions.  Anger, lust, denial.

“Why would I want Thor when I can have you?”

That seemed to stun him, for some reason. He went very still, gaze penetrating, as though searching for the lie in her words. Through the bond came a ghost of feeling. An ache that made her heart squeeze.

He didn’t believe himself worthy. At least, not compared to his brother.

“There are benefits to the bond,” she said, to cover the emotion rising in her throat. “In fact, there are more benefits to you than there are to me.”

“Such as?”

“I can transfer power to you now. Use it to heal you, feed your metabolism. Make you stronger. Even extend your lifespan.”

The surprise on his face was gratifying.

“We can communicate across vast distances as well. Although,” she reconsidered, “That, you might find troublesome.”

“You can find me anywhere,” he grated. “I’ll never be rid of you.”

“I'll leave you alone when this is over if that’s what you want.”

The implications of that “if” struck him visibly. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again. Turned abruptly and paced away from her.

“You would have done the same if our positions were reversed,” she said quietly.

He spun, “ _Don’t tell me what I would have done_.”

“It’s true though. Isn’t it? Can you really blame me?”

Denial and something else warred on his face. His emotions were a tangle she couldn’t make sense of, but there was something there. Something that made her tingle with hope.

Finally, anger gave way to resignation. “Well, it’s done. You may regret it, though.”

She shrugged. “I told you. It’s a curse.”

 

* * *

 

Sig sat on the couch with a mug of coffee, listening to the sound of Loki in the shower.

Wondering what he was thinking. What he wanted.

_Lot of good that does me._

She could peek using their new connection, but he would undoubtedly feel it. He most certainly wouldn’t appreciate it.

Plus, she wasn’t too keen to let him in on what she was feeling, and the bond went both ways.

It was strong with him, too. Unexpectedly so. The connection had been more intense than with Mad. And Malik. Maybe because of the sex?

God, that had been good. She was still aching in low places.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

She set the coffee on the table. Dropped into a shallow trance and reached out to Mad.  

Usually, it took significant effort to reach Mad across such a distance, but the old magic she’d taken from the Bifrost surged and flung her effortlessly towards the faint pulse of the Tolok’s energy signature.

 _Hello, my Sigyn._  Mad’s greeting was crystal clear and vibrating with happiness.  _Are you well?_

 _Yes_ , Sig answered, drinking the Tolok’s simple pleasure with relief.  _Did you do what I told you?_

_Yes, my Sigyn. Protocol fifteen. I waited. The ship and I are safe at the appointed place._

_Good._  Part of protocol fifteen was as that they couldn’t speak of their respective locations, on the off chance that Malik might be listening in psychically. 

 _Do you see my timeline?_   Sig asked.

_Yes._

_Is it clear?_

_No, my Sigyn. There is obscuration._

_What can you tell me?_

There was a pause while the Tolok calculated the risks of foretelling Sig’s future.

_Your plan must hinge on Loki. That is all I may safely say._

Well, that wasn’t a surprise.  _It does. Can you see what we’re planning?_

 _No, my Sigyn_. _But I see the bond_. Her voice vibrated with happiness.

Sig sent Mad a telepathic scowl.  _Don’t get too excited. I didn’t exactly ask his permission. He’s less than happy about it, but he’s going to help us._

 _All will be well, my Sigyn._  Mad’s response was full of confidence.

_If you say so. Stay there until I contact you again, ok? Be safe._

_Yes, my Sigyn_.

She broke the connection and looked up. Loki was standing beside the couch with a towel riding low around his lean hips, looking down at her.

_Sweet God in heaven._

“Where did you go just now?”

Sig tore her gaze away from his naked torso and made herself look up into his face.

“With Mad,” she said.

“Ah.” He bent to pick up the bundle of clothing that sat beside her on the couch. “How is the little time witch?”

He was more relaxed now. The stiffness was gone from his frame, anger dissipated. Wet black curls clung to his collarbones. His chest was smooth, leanly muscled.  His abdomen corrugated. Everything gleaming and beaded with water.

Sig had the insane urge to snatch the towel away, just to see the look on his face.

Well, maybe not  _just_  for that reason.

“She’s fine. We’re going to need a ship.”

His brows rose. “It’s time?”

She nodded.

Sig could swear his irises changed color at that moment-–turned from blue-ish to a pale, translucent green.

“Where are we going?”

His darkly eager tone sent fine little shivers down her back. Lovely, happy little shivers. There were rivulets of water trickling down his belly, over the muscles above his hips.

“Not far,” she said, suddenly unable to produce complete sentences. “Secret.”

His eyes narrowed in anticipation. “Shall I call Fury?”

“The Watcher.”

“You mean Heimdall.” He lifted one hand and ran it through his wet hair, the muscles in his chest bunching deliciously.

Like an idiot, she simply smiled at him, heart dancing a funny little tattoo in her chest.

His expression faltered. “Are you unwell?”

She shook her head. “If you want intelligent conversation, you’re going to have to put some clothes on.”

He blinked at that, expression flickering from surprised to disconcerted to amused.

“Or don’t,” she smiled again. “That also works.”

His mouth dropped partly open on a voiceless little gust of breath-–half laugh, half disbelief. 

“I know.” She waved one hand as though to erase her previous behavior. “I need the Watcher to check on Malik. See if we can get a location before I … do the thing.”

He shook his head, eyes rolling upward. “Fine. I’ll just be a moment.” And then he turned and went back to the bedroom.

Sig watched him go. His back was just as nice as his front, especially with her nail marks all over it.

 _Oh god_ , she thought helplessly,  _this is madness_.

He came back out wearing a fresh gig in deep, dark brown leather with wide strips of forest green down the sides, on the forearms and diagonally across the lower leg. The jacket closed on the left side of his chest with several straps that ended in slim, dark copper buckles. There was a matching decorative copper arc, inverted at the collar and inlaid into the leather, like a gesture at a necklace. The whole getup hugged his body deliciously.

Sig found herself mentally calculating how one might go about getting it off him.

“Have I passed your inspection?” he said wryly, interrupting her thoughts.

_Oops._

“Absolutely,” she smiled.

His mouth quirked. “My brother had these sent up for you,” he picked up the other bundle of clothes and tossed it into her lap. “Get dressed.” 

While she looked at the bundle, he went to the phone on the wall near the kitchen entryway and dialed Fury.  

She stood, stripped off the robe, and started pulling on the high-waisted leather pants, listening as he told Fury what she wanted.

As he  _argued_.  

 _Shit_. “Let me talk to him,” she said, turning with the top half of the ensemble still clutched in one hand.

Loki handed her the receiver, his gaze dipping to her naked chest.

“I need some assurances before I give you a multi-million dollar piece of SHIELD equipment,” Fury said before she’d even spoken.

“Well, I can’t give you any assurances.” She watched Loki’s pupil dilate as he gazed at her breasts.

“Then take one of ours with you. Take Thor. He can bring the ship back when you’re through with it.”

“And report back to you everything we do, thus jeopardizing the success of our plan.” She tucked the phone against her shoulder and pulled apart the remaining garments–-a short, fitted jacket in midnight blue leather and a matching cotton undershirt. 

Fury cursed, “Work with me here. We won’t communicate with Thor except to track your loca–-"

“No. Tracking us defeats the purpose of going where we’re going.” She struggled into the undershirt while Loki watched her with predatory interest.

Fury sighed. “Then take him as a show of good faith.”

“I don’t have any good faith. Listen, if you want this to work, you’re just gonna have to trust me.” She tucked the shirt in. Loki’s gaze followed her hands.

“I’m finding that rather difficult, considering I have nothing but your word to go on, and you won’t tell me squat about what you’re planning. For all I know you’re going to take the ship and hang us out to dry.”

“I appreciate that, but there’s nothing I can do to reassure you–-”

“Take Thor.”

“I don’t need him,” she said impatiently, shrugging into the jacket. Loki came around the couch and startled her by helping with the complicated closure, reaching inside the jacket to attach the inner flap under her arm.

“He’s one of the most powerful beings I’ve ever encountered. Surely you could use a little extra backup.”

She made herself breathe evenly. Loki’s knuckles brushed against the underside of her breast. His face was impassive, but his body radiated heat. “Power, we have. Clumsy, musclebound idiots, we do not need.”

“He could be useful,” said Loki, pulling the outer flap of the jacket into place and buttoning it snugly on the opposite side of her body.

She looked at him in surprise as Fury said stubbornly, “I’ll give you the ship if you take him, otherwise we’ll just take our chances with Thanos.”

He was bluffing, of course.

Loki gave her a shrug like,  _Why not?_   He buckled the jacket’s narrow belt and then straightened the asymmetrical lapels, brushing over her breasts again–-rather unnecessarily, she thought. Not that she was complaining. 

“I’ll call you back,” she said to Fury, and then hung up on him, mid-denial.

“He’s not nearly as dumb as he looks,” said Loki, hands falling away from her body. “He might be useful.”

Humming all over with arousal, she replied, “Or he might be a huge, unnecessary pain in the ass.”

He smirked. “You just want to be alone with me.”

 _A little of column A, a little of column B_. “Do you really think your brother is an asset to the plan?

“Well, can Malik withstand a massive lightning bolt?”

 _Hm_. “I doubt it.”

“In that case, with Thor’s help, we may be able to take him down without ever getting too close.”

She considered. “I don’t know, adding another variable seems…foolhardy.”

“Sounded like the ship and Thor are a packaged deal.”

“Fury’s bluffing. His whole planet is at risk.”

Loki shook his head. “I guarantee you he isn’t putting all his chips on us. He has other plans. Hidden resources. The man is clever, I’ll give him that. And devious as hell.”

She sighed. “Fine. We’ll take the idiot. But I reserve the right to ditch him on some backwater hellhole if he proves to be more trouble than he’s worth.”

Loki grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

* * *

 

Thor and Heimdall met them at the docking bay, which opened from beneath a low building adjacent to the center compound building.

“This ship is tiny,” Sig was saying to Fury. “Can it even carry three people?”

“It can, though there are only two sleeping pods. Hopefully, your journey will be a short one.”

Sig shrugged, turning to Heimdall as the two Asgardians approached.

Thor clapped Loki on the shoulder in greeting and Heimdall said, “You wish me to locate the Aldurian.”

“Can you?” Sig asked.

Heimdall nodded, “His cloaking is good, but I saw him most recently on a planet on the nearest edge of the Andromeda galaxy. I believe he is still there now.”

“Which planet?”

“I do not know the name. It’s a trading hub outside of Confederacy jurisdiction.”

“Good, there aren’t any portals between here and there. That gives us time to get away from Earth.” To Loki and Thor she said, “Let’s get moving.”

“We’ve stocked you with food and supplies,” said Fury as they boarded the Quinjet. “The ship has enough fuel to get you well outside the solar system. After that, you’re on your own.”

“Thanks,” she leaned over the edge of the docking ramp and held out her hand. With a look of surprise, Fury shook it. “Good luck with Thanos,” she said.

“Thank you. Good luck with Malik.”

She grinned at him and then turned and ducked onto the ship.

“Loki,” Fury said, as the God of Mischief turned to follow her.

Loki paused and Thor looked back as well.

“If you’re successful, I’ll lobby for dismissal of the charges for your crimes against Earth.”

Loki hid his surprise behind a mocking smile. “I’m touched.”

The human went on as if Loki hasn’t spoken. “That being said, if you fuck this up, Thor will bring you back in chains and you’ll spend the rest of your days here in a ten by ten cell.”

Behind him, Loki caught Thor’s urgent gesture of repression. He glanced at his brother and Thor smiled sheepishly.

To Fury, Loki said, “I shall endeavor to redeem myself in your exalted eyes.”

Fury’s mouth thinned into a line of pure derision. “See that you do.”

As the docking door closed behind them Thor said, “I’m sorry, Brother.”

“Are you?” Loki drawled, taking the seat beside Sig at the console. She was already starting the engines. Outside, Fury’s little minions scurried about the bay, signaling with orange cones as the ship began to move.

“Strap in,” she said.

“Why do you get to pilot?” said Thor.

“Because I’m the oldest,” she replied smartly, without looking back. Then she threw the throttle forward and the sudden momentum sent Thor tumbling into the rear of the cabin.

Loki laughed with genuine glee. “This is going to be fun.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: discussion of sexual assault in this chapter

“Where are we going?” Thor asked as soon as they were out of Earth’s atmosphere.

Sig ignored him. To Loki she said, “Can you reprogram the security system? I want to make sure that one–-" she jabbed a thumb in Thor’s direction, “–-can’t access the coms and tattle our whereabouts to Fury.”

“I do not  _tattle_ ,” said Thor indignantly.

“I can try,” Loki replied, and reached for the console. “But the coms will be inaccessible so long as we’re in stealth mode anyway.”

She nodded. “Just delete his access keys then. And–-what the hell?”

The com screen came on with a sharp little  _bing!_  and Tony Stark’s face appeared.

“Hi fellas. And lady. Hope you don’t mind me popping in for a sec.”

“Stark–-” Loki started, at the same time Sig said, “Who the hell are you?”

Stark grinned at her, “I’m the guy who designed that ship you just swindled Fury out of. Most people know me as Iron Man.” He dipped his head to one side and smiled with a poor approximation of modesty.

“He’s tracking us.” Loki started pressing buttons rapidly.

“What do you want?” Sig demanded.

“I wanna know where you’re taking my ship, for one. See, I’m not really the trusting type. What with the fate of Earth in jeopardy and all–-and you being an intergalactic criminal–-I kinda feel like you owe us an explanation.”

“Take it up with Fury,” Sig replied.

“Yeah…Fury and I don’t always see eye to eye, if you know what I mean.” He winked. Obnoxious bastard. “Since he closed me out of the negotiation process, I decided to take things into my own hands. I have a direct line to the navigation program, so I’m gonna shut the engines down until you tell me-–”

“I don’t have time for this,” Sig glanced at Loki. “How is he getting through?”

Loki held up a finger, still hitting buttons.

Stark said smugly, “Well, the Quinjet is my baby–-one of–-so I slipped in a few special protocols. I have access channels that nobody–-"

“Got it,” Loki said. The com screen abruptly went blank and the entire console flicked off and then back on again.

“Thank you,” she sighed in relief. “That guy was really annoying.”

“My pleasure.”

Behind them, Thor said, “Is he still tracking us?”

“No. I found his special protocols and cut them manually. We’re clear.”

“Thank God,” Sig said wryly.

Loki grinned at her, “I already said it was my pleasure.”

She laughed.

“You two sure are chummy,” Thor muttered.

Sig rolled her eyes. “I put it on auto,” she said to Loki, “We’ll reach the sector three portal in about eighteen hours. Then it’s another twenty hours to home. You sure he can’t get through again and shut us down?”

Loki nodded, watching her unbuckle.  “Where’s home?”

“Mad and I found a dwarf planet on the edge of sector four. Outside Confed jurisdiction and hidden behind an asteroid belt. It’s been uninhabited for centuries. Mad calls it New Tolok.” She shrugged and rose. “That’s home now.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna check out the sleeping pods and inventory supplies. And I need to contact Mad and tell her where to meet us,” she walked past Thor and bent to pop the hatch.

Thor unbuckled himself and went to the console. Loki watched him read the flight plan. “You have us flying straight through the asteroid field. It looks like a bloody wall. How the hell are we going to survive that?”

Her voice came back from below deck. “Usually I rely on fancy flying.”

“Fancy-–!” he looked at the map again, and then at Loki. “She’s insane. There’s no way we can get through that.”

Loki shrugged. “If it was easy, everyone would do it.”

Sig’s voice drifted up from below. “Exactly.”

 

* * *

 

 

Loki dropped down through the hatch just as Sig disconnected from Mad.

“Bit snug,” he said, perusing the narrow space.

It was basically just a narrow walkway between the two sleeping pods, which were set into the walls and opened outwards on winging hydraulic doors. Inside each was a narrow mattress and a row of storage panels, some of which held neatly folded bedding and compressed pillows. The ceiling between the two pods had more storage panels, which dropped straight down when pressed. There Sig had found their food rations, water, and medical kit.

“It’s functional,” was all she said.

He stood just below the hatch, and the ceiling was so low that he rested both hands comfortably in the opening, looking down at her where she sat a couple of feet away in an open pod.

“What’s the news with Mad?”

“She’ll meet us just outside the asteroid belt.”

He nodded, considering the narrow bed, gaze lingering on her folded legs.

“Tired?” she asked. “You should get some rest while you can.”

Before he could answer Thor’s heavy footsteps approached the hatch. “What are you two doing down there?”

Sig rolled her eyes. “We’re plotting to kill you.”

Silence. 

“That sounds like a joke, but knowing my brother, it could be true,” came Thor’s reply.

Sig gave Loki a questioning look. He shrugged in admission.

“You have an interesting relationship,” she said dryly.

He smiled.

Standing, she motioned to the bed. “It’s all yours. I’ll be on deck, making sure your brother doesn’t do anything stupid.”

He moved to pass her in the small space, looking down at her as they squeezed by one another. His chest brushed her breasts and made her flush with heat.

She wondered if he would take her to bed again, given the chance. Her body thrummed at the thought.

 _He might be fed up with you after the whole fidelity bond thing_.

Then again, she didn’t need to read their connection to know that he still felt lust towards her. It was there in his eyes whenever he looked at her. But would he act on it?

She looked up through the hatch at Thor. “Move it. I’m coming up.”

Thor backed away from the opening.

“Feel free to take the other pod,” she said when she reached the flight deck. “I won’t need to sleep for hours.”

“I’d like to talk,” he kicked shut the hatch, closing Loki into the chamber below. “If you don’t mind.”

Sig sighed. “Of course you would.”

“What’s your relationship with my brother?” he asked, as she crossed to the pilot’s chair.

Surprised, she paused. “I thought you were going to grill me about the plan.”

He sat in the chair beside her. “I’m more interested in what you’re doing with Loki.”

 _Hm._  “I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”

“It’s not, accept, he can be…”

“Mischievous?”

“Dangerous.”

Sig put one hand to her heart. “My god, you’re concerned for my welfare.”

He scowled at her sarcasm. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“You don’t know what _I’m_  capable of. Yet here we are,” she gestured to the ship, the universe beyond. “You gonna go give him a lecture, too?”

Thor huffed in frustration.

“What do you want? Just spit it out.”

“Fine,” he snapped. “Are you in love with my brother? Because as much as I want good things for him, he’s likely to stab you in the back and leave you to die if doing so happens to benefit him in any way.”

Sig burst into laughter.

“Why is that funny?”

“I just find it amusing that you feel it necessary to warn me about your brother when it’s  _your_  loyalty that seems suspect.”

Thor blinked. “ _My_  loyalty?”

“I heard what Fury said. You plan to take him back to Earth and imprison him.  _Again_. If that’s how you treat your own brother, I’m not sure I can take your concern for me very seriously.”

Thor sputtered. “I didn’t–- _don’t-_ –want to see Loki imprisoned, but he plotted with Thanos to wage war on Earth and subjugate the humans!Also _,_  he tried to kill me. Like, a lot.”

“ _Tried_ to kill you? I find that hard to believe. He’s a pretty clever guy-–powerful too, even if he can’t match you for brute strength. I think if he really wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

That stunned him into silence.  

“You never thought about that, huh?” 

“No, but-–if he-–” Thor’s expression warred between denial and dawning realization. Denial won. “No, I  _know_  he wanted me dead.” He faltered. “At least…some of the time.”

Sig shrugged. “If you say so.”

Thor was silent for a few beats, thinking hard. Finally, he said, “I admit, I don’t really understand him–-why he does the things he does.”

“That’s clear enough,” she said wryly. 

“You believe you  _do_?”

Sig shrugged. “I don’t know him that well.”

“You know he’s a criminal.”

“So am I.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Do you trust him?”

She snorted. “Trust is not in my nature.”

“But you like him,” Thor insisted. 

 _Well, duh_. “Don’t you?”

He crossed his big arms and leaned back thoughtfully. “He’s my brother. I love him.”

“You don’t think that’s more important than the crimes he’s committed?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, isn’t the relationship more important than seeing him punished for his crimes?”

He shook his head–-not in denial, but like he didn’t have an answer. “He’s done wrong. It’s only right that he’s held accountable for his actions.”

Sig sighed.

“What?”

“Right and wrong, good and bad,” she shrugged. “It’s all a matter of perspective.”

He frowned. “Explain.”

“Right and wrong are just ideas. Rules we make up to justify telling others what to do. How to act.”

“You don’t believe what Loki did to Earth was wrong?”

“I don’t believe in right and wrong, in general.”

“I-–” his face was the picture of confusion. 

She took pity on him. “Listen, maybe I’m cynical–-maybe I’ve been around so long that my values are just jacked up–-but it seems to me that the whole right-wrong, good-bad dynamic is something powerful people made up to control the weak. A king decides he doesn’t like certain behaviors, so he makes them punishable. He likes other behaviors, so he rewards them. Is that right and wrong? Or is it just control?” 

“I’m king of Asgard,” he said. “Rules are made to  _protect_  the weak.”

“Maybe yours are. But does that make them universally ‘right’ and ‘good’?”

“Of course it’s right and good to protect the weak!”

“Not in nature it isn’t. The weak are food. Without them, the strong would starve.”

He shook his head. “This isn’t the wild. We are intelligent, civilized beings.”

“We’re animals  _parading_  as intelligent, civilized beings,” she insisted. “We use our intellect to make up rules to justify our behaviors. We just call it right and wrong to absolve ourselves of any guilt–-or to place guilt on others, thereby justifying our desire to punish those who do what we don’t like.

He gave her a horrified look.

“I’m not saying I think it’s okay to murder babies or enslave people, or whatever. I’m saying right and wrong are made-up standards we use to pass judgment on each other. Clearly, you ascribe to the majority rules flavor of that mentality: ‘Huritng the weak is bad–-Punishing those who hurt the weak is good.’ I just happen to have a different perspective. Different values.”

“Which are?”

She shrugged. “I choose to protect the people I care about. I place that above majority opinions about right and wrong. I don’t assume a stance of good or bad about anything. I just…do what  _I_  want. Then again, I’m not a king or a leader. I’m only responsible for myself, and I like it that way. I’m also well-equipped to avoid the law.” 

He seemed to digest that. “You don’t think ill of Loki for what he’s done? You wouldn’t think ill of him if he betrayed you, as he has me?”

“I didn’t say that. But I will say this: having experienced a level of betrayal most people can never imagine–-and having done things I believed at the time were right, which most would consider  _heinously_ wrong-–I can forgive things that other people find utterly unforgivable.”

He considered this in silence for a moment. Then, softly, “You are an extraordinary woman, Cousin.”

Sig smiled a bitter, humorless smile. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

 

* * *

 

Thor had retreated to the second sleeping pod and the ship had been quiet for hours when Sig finally slipped below deck.

She tapped on the door of the pod she’d vacated earlier and prayed that the two men hadn’t decided to switch.

It opened almost soundlessly and Loki looked up at her in the dark.

Sig said nothing. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. After long, interminable seconds, Loki shifted aside and she crawled into the pod next to him, pulling the door shut behind her.

He turned onto his side facing her and she nestled shamelessly into him, relishing the heat of his body and the smell of Loki and leather.  His arm curled around her, big hand spanning her lower back.

His acceptance made her heart squeeze with gratitude. The fidelity bond stirred and expanded against her will, pouring that sensation into the circuit of their connection, and she was sure he could feel it because he stilled against her.

A few breaths later, his hand slid up her spine to the back of her neck, tickling through the hair at her nape.

In a low, deceptively sleepy voice he asked, “Can you create a fidelity bond with anyone?” 

Her stomach dropped. But she didn’t bother to lie. He would figure it out eventually anyway.

“No.”

That brought a thread of ambivalent emotion–-too vague to define. He was guarding his feelings from her, she realized. Mad could do that, too. 

But his touch was warm, almost tender. His fingers slipped deeper into her hair, rubbed slow circles against her scalp, making her want to purr with pleasure.

Finally, very softly, as though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, he asked, “What’re the criteria?”

Sig closed her eyes and curled her arm around him. “Desire. A strong emotional connection.”  _On both sides._

He was silent for a moment. More ambivalence; a ghost of his satisfaction and… vacillation. 

“Not sexual desire,” he said, half-question, half-statement.

“Not necessarily.”

He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. His fingers tickled the back of her neck in a slow, absent-minded caress. 

And then something shifted in him. Along their connection came… a muted wave of surrender. 

The spell responded instantly, pulsing. Expanding. Growing stronger.

Sig pressed her face against his chest. Tilted her chin up until her lips met the bare skin of his throat.

He shifted back and kissed her slowly in the dark. Kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, tongue moving in a lazy, voluptuous glide.

He grew hard against her, pulled her tight to his body, nestling his erection into her hip.

And he kept on kissing her–-slow, languorous,  _dominating_ –-until she was positively drunk on it. Finally, released her, stroked her back for a while, her side, hand shaping her hip and waist possessively, gliding over her ribs, her breast, fingers digging gently into pliable flesh. 

But that was all. 

Eventually, cocooned in the little pod by their own heat and the sweet tingle of fidelity, they slept.

 

* * *

 

Sig woke hours later to the sensation of Loki’s fingers between her legs, his mouth wet-hot on her throat. She shuddered, shocked to find herself teetering on the edge of orgasm.

“Loki-–" she gasped, grabbing his hand. “Stop!”

He did, lifting his head. “What’s wrong?”

Dazed, still groggy, all she could think to say was, “I thought you weren’t interested in accosting unconscious women.”

He chuckled, low and dark. “I’ve been fantasizing about this since that first night on your ship.” His fingers started moving again and Sig clasped her legs together tight as the orgasm rose.

“Let me,” he growled.

She shook her head. “I want you inside.”

He made a low, animal sound and the hair on her neck stood up. “Come first.”

“No, I want-–”

“Don’t say it again,” he warned. “I’ll ride you so hard you’ll see stars.”

Sig squeezed her legs together again on a harsh breath, pleasure surging.

Loki froze. Growled darkly, “You almost came just from that.” 

He bent and nipped at her throat hard and she yelped.  His hand was moving again, fingers curling inside her while he worried at her clit with his thumb.

That was it. She came, bowing under his hand, keening breathlessly as he continued to work his fingers on her, in her, ratcheting the pleasure so high that her head spun and the breath died in her lungs.

When she lay limp and panting beside him, he took his hand away, slid it up under her shirt and clasped her bare breast with hungry deliberation.

“Now,” he murmured. “What were you saying?”

“Inside,” she rasped stubbornly.

He laughed. “If you insist. But our lack of contraceptives does seem like a concern.”

Was that why he’d insisted on using his hand? “I'm not ovulating,” she said, still a little breathless.

“Wonderful.” He sat up in the dark pod and peeled her pants and panties off in one go.

Too eager to wait for him to do it, Sig did away with her shirt. Her jacket was already gone, draped over the back of the pilot’s chair on the flight deck.

He paused on his way up her body and dipped his tongue between her legs, making her gasp.

“Sensitive,” he murmured, returning for another taste, deeper this time. She jerked under the pleasure of it. “Open your legs.”

“Loki…”

“I know, I know.” His breath was hot against her sex. “Just a minute.” And then he sucked her into his mouth and made her cry out, touched her clit with the tip of his tongue, traced tight little circles around the swollen bit of flesh.

“You’re shaking,” he rumbled, with unmistakable satisfaction. “I could make you come again like this.”

She clamped her thighs around his head by way of denial and he laughed. The next thing she knew, his fingers were there again, tracing the same path his tongue had taken, lubricated by saliva and arousal.

“ _Please_ ,” she cried.

“Let me suck you.”

The words undid her. She let him go and he bent to her again, mouth open, hot and slick. Tongue searing the sensitive flesh and making it throb. And when she thought she could take no more he burrowed for her clit and sucked it directly. She gasped. Bucked and came in a long, shuddering spasm.

“That’s it,” he said huskily, rising. And then his cock was nudging her, pushing inside, stretching her taut, making her moan. “Good girl,” he whispered. “So wet.”

He pinned her arms above her head and began to thrust. She wondered distantly if this was the punishment he’d threatened because he rode her with incredible, focused aggression. Long, penetrating, relentless thrusts. Arching over her in the dark, using his whole body to work her into a frenzy, until finally, she came a third time, stunned by the power of it, screeching wordlessly, her whole being focused on the deep glide of his cock inside her.

He must have come with her, because when it was over he was sagging above her, holding himself up on his elbows, panting rapidly into her hair. His cock was still jerking lightly inside her.

“That was good,” he said roughly.

Sig laughed a breathy, voiceless laugh.  _That’s an understatement._

The bond was wide open. She could feel his satisfaction. An underlying curl of wonder. A deep, masculine sense of possession. Her own emotions were a blurry tangle. She wondered what he read in them.

His mouth grazed her shoulder. She felt the hot swipe of his tongue along her collarbone. 

“Does it get stronger every time?” he asked.

When she could convince her mouth to form the words she said, “I don’t know. It’s different.”

He lifted his head. “Different how?”

“I don’t have sex with Mad. It’s not comparable.”

“What about Malik?”

She’d known that was coming, but it still made her cringe, shut her down. He shifted over her when she didn’t answer and she knew he was looking down at her face.

“Tell me.”

She turned her head away. “With Malik it was rape.”

He lifted himself from her gently and the sensation of his cock disengaging made her tense, memories overlaying the pleasure with nauseating emotion.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

That startled her. Somehow, an apology from him seemed…

“Why?” she rasped.

He settled against her side. “Because I felt what you felt just now.” The regret in his voice was like a blade on her heart. Tears stung her eyes.

“You still love him.”

“I  _hate_  him,” she hissed.

Loki shifted, still fully dressed against her nakedness. His heat and the sensation of leather made her feel raw. Exposed.

“Because you love him,” he said.

 

* * *

 

She cried silently, asking for nothing, accepting no comfort.

Loki pulled her into his arms because that seemed like the right thing to do. Because her pain was like acid on his psyche. She lay rigidly against him and dripped hot tears onto his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, knowing it was stupid. Feeling useless. Powerless.

Angry.

The fidelity bond had shrunk the moment he’d said Malik’s name. She’d closed herself to him, shut herself tight. It shouldn’t have bothered him.

It did.

Tenderness wasn’t his strong suit–-the need for it was painfully awkward. Alien. He touched her naked back and wished he was…different.

That stung him deeply; the sense of his own insufficiency. It made him furious.

_You could be more._

Thor would have known how to comfort her. The golden boy.

So why had she chosen Loki?   _Idiot woman_. He couldn’t be–-

_What?_

What she needed. What she deserved.

He was the God of Mischief. Agent of chaos and conflict. Selfish, mercenary, autocratic. He could give her orgasms, plot for her, fight, kill her enemies--all of which she could do for herself. 

He couldn’t be soft. 

It made him seethe with bitterness. Resentment rose inside him–-spilled in every direction: to Sig, to Thor, to Malik. Even Mad, the idiot little Tolok who had Sig’s love.

But mostly to himself.

He was drowning in it.

Part of him wanted to push her away. To recede into meanness and malice. To make her regret this moment of vulnerability. To punish her for reminding him that he was…less.

Yet he held her.

Because she’d chosen him, and he wanted her, dammit. She’d bound herself to him, and damned if he would let her go now, even if he didn’t deserve her. Even if she came to hate him.

He had nothing else.

He drew her tight against his body and pushed his face into her neck, felt her tears on his cheek. 

 _Mine_ , he thought angrily.  _Whether you like it or not._

 

* * *

 

Sig woke again to the sound of the ship’s proximity alarm.

She was alone in the pod. The screen on the inside of the door glowed red in warning. Another ship was approaching them. A  _massive_  warship.

They were already locked into its gravity beam.

In seconds she was out of the pod, scrambling into her rumpled clothes.

“Sig!”

It was Loki, calling from the flight deck.

She shoved open the hatch and leaped straight up, still buttoning her pants. He and Thor were at the console, staring out the window.

“Who is it?”

“Thanos,” Loki said grimly.

“Oh shit.” She pushed between them and started slapping buttons on the center screen.

“It’s no use,” said Thor. “The controls are frozen. They’re bringing us in.”

“Fuck!”

“He wants the tesseract. He’ll kill me when he realizes we don’t have it,” said Loki. “He’ll kill us all.”

Thor reached across Sig to grip his shoulder.  “You will live through this day, brother. I promise you.”

“He’s right,” Sig said, watching the enormous ship grow larger as they neared it. “Thanos can kiss my ass. We’re getting out of this.”

She pulled power straight from the ship’s engines. From the shields, even from the beam that drew them inexorably into Thanos’ grasp–-and then she reached out to Mad.

_I am here, my Sigyn._

Sig poured the energy straight into the connection and felt Mad take it in. Felt the Tolok’s sureness as she shifted rapidly through the aether, across light years, towards the Quinjet and its three occupants.

The warship’s docking bay doors had just opened to admit them when Mad popped into the cockpit behind Sigyn.

Sig turned, opened her mouth to speak as Mad took hold of her arm, but before the words were out, Mad had pulled her through into the aether.

_Mad, what the hell are you doing?!_

_I am sorry, my Sigyn. We cannot interfere._

_Are you kidding me? We can’t leave them!_  Sig cried.

Loki had spun and was standing there with a look of complete shock.

“Sig?” he said, and his voice came through, distant and muffled behind the heavy green haze.

She reached out to him, not with her hands but through the bond.  _I’m here._

He heard. His mouth moved. “What’s happening?”

Beside him, Thor was looking from the window to his brother to the empty space where Sig had just stood, his face a study in confusion.

 _They must do this alone_ , Mad said.  _It is the only way._

 _Do what?_  Sig cried.

 _It is for the good of Earth._  Mad replied, cryptically.  _This is all that I can say._

Sig turned back to Loki.  _Mad says we can’t interfere._  She looked at the Tolok in agony.  _Don’t you dare let him die!_

The Tolok studied her face with childlike innocence and ancient wisdom at once.  _It is the only way, my Sigyn._

 _What?!_  Sig grabbed her by the arms and shook her hard,  _You find another way, goddammit!_

Lips parted in surprise or pain, Mad put her little hands on Sig’s arms.  _You are hurting me, my Sigyn._

The hull thumped into solid metal. Sig turned. They were inside the warship. There were warriors outside in the docking bay, pointing guns at the quinjet.

_Do something, Mad! Put me back in!_

_I cannot._

_Yes!You! Can!_  Sig nearly screamed.  _If you let him die I will never forgive you!_

Mad’s enormous violet eyes were calm.  _I cannot break Oath._

 _Your oath was broken a long time ago!_  Sig snarled.  _You put us on this path, Mad! You orchestrated all of this–-I know you did! You better damned well fix it!_

Mad’s calm seemed to falter a fraction.

The outer hatch on the quinjet opened. Men with guns yelled orders for the two Asgardians to throw down their weapons and exit the ship.

_Mad!!_

The Tolok looked at Loki, who stood at the edge of the docking ramp with his hands in the air. Thor stood beside him, lighting crackling up his arms in preparation for a fight.

_Is this really what you want, my Sigyn?_

_Yes!!_  Sig cried.  _For god’s sake, yes!!_

Mad met Sig’s frantic gaze. Her little face filled with compassion. With love.

_Very well, my Sigyn. For you._


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR INFINITY WAR SPOILERS IN THIS CHAPTER

Sig watched the battle go down with sickness riding in the pit of her belly. They fought like the warrior princes they were, but in the end it was Thanos and his Black Order who triumphed.

Heart pounding, Sig looked on as Thanos put the gauntlet to Thor’s head. Loki’s face crumpled with pain as he watched his brother dying in Thanos’ grip.

“ _Alright, stop!_ ” he cried. “I don’t have it! I don’t have the stone!”

Thanos lifted the gauntlet from Thor’s temple. “Where is it, then?” 

Thor wheezed, “Don’t tell him!” 

“It’s on Earth,” Loki replied.  “In New York. Now let him go!”

“You really are the worst, brother,” Thor said weakly.

Loki looked at the God of Thunder, held powerless in Thanos’ enormous paw. “I assure you brother, the sun will shine on us again.”

Thanos chuckled. “Your optimism is misplaced, Asgardian.”

“Well, for one thing,” Loki sneered, “I’m not Asgardian. And for another–-"

_Now, my Sigyn._

Sig reached out to Loki with a wordless warning. Mad opened a window through the aether and Sig hit Thanos with everything she had–-a blast of power that plucked him off the floor and flung him directly at Loki and the Black Order.

Loki was already diving towards his brother, the two of them rolling aside as Thanos barreled into his gaggle of minions and the lot of them scattered like bowling pins.

Only the tall, vaguely amphibian looking man with the telekinesis avoided the blast. He came to his feet as Thanos and the others slammed into the wall. Sig was already reaching through the opening for Loki, pulling him off of Thor and into the aether.

Just as he popped through, half a dozen pieces of the quinjet–-flung by the amphibian’s telekinesis–-struck Thor and wrapped him up, completely immobilizing him.

_Thor!_  Loki cried, turning to Mad in the green mists.  _Bring him through!_

_I cannot._  The Tolok replied.  _He must remain._

_What? Why?_  Loki demanded.

_His timeline cannot be altered if Earth is to survive_.

Loki’s face with stark with denial. He advanced on the Tolok aggressively and Sig pulled him back by the arm. Furious, he turned on her.  _Thanos will kill him!_

_He will_ _not_ , said Mad.  _The Asgardian will survive. It is your death that is required._

Loki spun in shock.  _What!?_ My _death?_

Sig’s heart squeezed.  _You said there was a way, Mad._

Mad nodded.  _They must believe you dead. They must see it occur._

_An illusion?_  He said, looking back at Thor through the veil of green mist. Thanos had risen. His Black Order fanned across the docking bay, looking for the source of Sig’s attack.

_No illusion,_  said Mad.  _It must be real._

Loki glared at her.  _How am I supposed to accomplish that?_

_Sigyn._  The Tolok replied simply.  _Fidelity._

Loki looked to Sig. Her dread must have communicated itself to him because he said grimly,  _Can you do that? Can you bring me back?_

Sig opened her mouth–-

_We must hurry, before the timeline is damaged irreparably,_  Mad interrupted. And then she pushed Loki back through the aether.

_Mad!_  Sig cried in dismay.

_It is well, my Sigyn,_  the Tolok soothed.

Loki didn’t miss a beat. He strolled out to meet Thanos, who stood amongst his minions saying, “There are three stones on Earth. Find them my children, and bring them to me on Titan-–”

“If I might interject,” Loki smiled as they turned to him. “If you’re going to Earth, you might want a guide,” he held his hands out from his sides, presenting himself. “I do have a bit of experience in that arena.”

“You consider failure experience?” Thanos said mildly.

“I consider  _experience_  experience,” Loki replied tartly.

_Mad, I can’t do this_. Sig turned away as Loki offered his services to Thanos.

“Almighty Thanos: I, Loki…”

_I can’t watch him die!_

“Prince of Asgard…”

_You will save him, my Sigyn._

“ …Odinson…”

_Promise me, Mad!–-_

“The rightful King of Jotunheim…”

_–-Promise_ _me he won’t die!_

“God of Mischief…”

_He will_ , Mad murmured.

“Do hereby pledge to you…”

Sig closed her eyes. Turned away.

“My undying… _fidelity_ …”

Her heart froze in her chest.

_Fidelity._

He  _trusted_  her.  It was there in the word, underneath his voice. Traveling silently along the bond, like a breath. A touch. 

She shook her head, eyes squeezed shut, shaking now. Sick with dread. 

There was an intense pulse of energy–-the stone surging to life under Thanos’ power. She felt Loki’s fear, his determination.

“Undying?” the titan sneered. “You should choose your words more carefully.”

She heard a metallic clatter–-a knife falling to the ground. And then…

_No, no, no!_ She clamped her hands over her ears, crouched low to the ground, every nerve in her body vibrating with horror.

He was  _suffocating_.

_Loki!_  Her power rose-–from where, she had no idea. She’d used her last store to attack Thanos. Yet, somehow it gathered, surged–-

_No, Sigyn! Not yet!_  Mad gripped her shoulder with uncharacteristic force.

Sig gritted her teeth and held it back, tears stinging her eyes. Suddenly she felt his awareness of her like a physical touch;  the sensation of his smile: grim, self-depreciating amusement.

_Don’t look_ , he whispered, directly into her mind.

His final words echoed across the aether. “ _You…will never be…a God_.”

Sig screamed through her teeth–heard Thor’s muffled cry of rage and pain, like an echo-–and then Thanos murmured smugly, “No resurrections this time.”

 

* * *

 

Loki woke on a ragged gasp, throat raw and burning.

He could still feel Thano’s grip on his neck.

“Sig,” he rasped blindly, sitting up.

“She is well, Loki.”

He turned, vision focusing slowly on the Tolok. The room was familiar; the bed beneath him, too. The wide window behind the Tolok showed open space–-a dense stream of asteroids passing in the distance.

Sig’s ship.

She was beside him in the bed. Unconscious.

“She did it,” he rasped painfully, leaning over her. Her face was ashen. Eyes ringed with shadows so deep they looked like bruises. She lay against the pillows with alarming stillness. “What happened to her?”

“She gave of her own life force to save you,” said the Tolok, perched beside him on the bed. “She is very weak. But she will recover.”

Loki’s heart seemed to stutter. He touched Sig’s cheek. It was cool. Her chest moved minutely with breath.

A new burn filled his throat–-one that had nothing to do with the damage from Thanos. He turned back to Mad. “What of Thor?” Each syllable seared his vocal cords.

“He lives,” she murmured, watching him with those impossibly wide, violet eyes.

“You know this?”

Mad nodded. “Earth’s timelines have cleared. I have foreseen his return.”

Relief stole his words for a moment.

“The timelines…” he swallowed against the pain of speaking, producing each word with great effort. “Did something…happen…to Malik?”

“No. He is still alive. He casts his obscurations only where Sig and I may travel. He does not see the timelines clearly, but he has seen that we will not return to Earth.” She patted his arm with one small, pale hand. “Do not speak anymore, my Loki. You must rest.”

Loki wanted to question her further, but exhaustion pulled at him and the pain in his throat forbid further speech. Still…

Wait, had she called him… _my_  Loki?

“There is time for rest,” Mad said reassuringly. “Malik is near, but we are safe here for now, together.”

_Together._

He was part of their “together” now, he realized. It was there in her voice, somehow. Sig and Mad…and Loki.

Thoughts sinking beneath a fog of exhaustion, he let himself fall back into the pillows.

Did he  _want_  to be part of their strange little unit?

Head rolling, he looked again at Sig. Felt for their connection and found only a ghost of her energy signature. She’d nearly killed herself to bring him back. He felt sure of that.

_Stupid woman._

With the last of his strength, he rolled towards her, curling his arm protectively across her body.

And then he slept.

 

* * *

“How long will she be unconscious?” he asked the Tolok. He’d slept nearly a day himself, and Sig looked no better than she had. Her breathing was a little deeper and her skin a little warmer, but her face was still terribly pallid.

Mad shrugged, “A while.”

Loki was propped against the headboard with the hot tea Mad had brought him. His throat still ached and his voice was hoarse, but considering that he’d felt his own neck snap under Thanos’ fingers, he felt pretty damned good. 

The Tolok sat at Sigyn’s feet, one small, pale hand resting on Sig’s ankle. They’d undressed her and tucked her under the blankets. She hadn’t even stirred.

“As long as last time?” 

“Longer,” Mad replied neutrally.

Loki cursed. “Can we afford to wait?”

“Sigyn must recover before facing Malik,” the Tolok murmured.

“I know a healing spell,” he leaned over to set the tea aside. The spell would drain him, but he figured he owed it to her. At least, that was the excuse he made to himself; it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that every time he looked at her, his heart felt like it would crack. 

Mad was smiling at him, her elfin face creased with pleasure and…affection?  “I am grateful, my Loki.”

_What a strange little creature you are_ , he thought uncomfortably, turning to Sigyn.

He drew on his sorcery–-thought briefly of Frigga and the day she’d taught the spell to him–-and cast the healing over Sigyn.

The energy went to her with startling urgency–-as though it  _knew_  her. He watched it flow from his hands and sink into her body. The spell was designed to repair physical trauma. The energy seemed to search her, looking for damage and finding none. Eventually, it found purchase in her cells and began to absorb. 

Through their connection–-and through the spell itself–-he felt her body’s systems stir and speed: nervous system, cardiovascular, respiratory. Color seeped into her face. The shadows under her eyes faded.

Her eyes snapped open.

“Loki!” she shrieked, sitting bolt upright.

She blinked at Mad–-at the room itself–-in utter confusion. And then her gaze found him. There was a moment of blank disbelief.

“You died,” she whispered.

He made himself smile, remembering what he’d felt as Thanos squeezed the life out of him. What  _Sig_  had felt. 

“I remember. I was there.”

She looked at his throat, which was still faintly bruised.

And then she crawled across the small space between them and wrapped her arms around him, embracing him fiercely, pressing her face into his neck.

He swallowed. It was awkward–-Sig half in his lap, her breath shuddering just below his ear, her heartbeat thumping against his chest. Her emotions swamped him, tightened his throat, stole his voice. 

Robbed him of all his defenses.

His arms lifted of their own volition and he found himself returning her embrace. Pulling her fully into his lap.

Over her shoulder, Mad was beaming at them.

Without releasing him, Sig looked toward the Tolok. Mad rose, came around the bed to Loki’s side. Curled her little arms around them both. She smelled like sugar and cinnamon.

_This is ridiculous_ , he thought, and then pressed his face into Sig’s hair. His eyes burned.

When he lifted his head again, the Tolok was gone. 

Sig leaned back, took his face into her hands and kissed him. Her mouth was soft and sweet and exquisitely hot.

Flooded with her feelings, he surrendered to her. Accepted her tongue into his mouth and drank her kiss in a slow, drugging haze.

The fidelity bond seemed to pulse and swell. 

He should resist it. He thought so every time this happened. But it felt  _so good_ , and he was hungry–- _starved_ for what it brought him: the sweet, fervent flow of Sig’s feelings for him. The whisper of her thoughts at the edge of his mind. The throb of her desire.

He knew what she was going to do before she did it. Eager, greedy for her, he let it happen.

She pulled his shirt up to his ribs and he lifted his arms so she could remove it. Then he pushed him down onto his back and straddled his hips, naked thighs pale and beautiful. 

Lust flowed between them like an invisible stream of electricity. Her amber eyes were bright, glazed with need. He watched her nipples draw tight through her shirt as she undid the placket of his trousers. 

_Yes_ , he thought savagely.  _Take me._

He was already hard, but she didn’t pause to stroke him–-simply lifted herself, holding his cock in one hand and tugging her panties aside with the other. She impaled herself on him almost roughly. 

Loki heard himself groan in concert with Sig’s low cry of pleasure. And then she was riding him in a slow, languorous glide, pleasure sizzling along his spine, searing his senses.

“Sig,” he rasped voicelessly, wanting more. More of Sig; the wet-hot pull of her sex, the throb of her emotions, the delicious undulations of her body. All of her filling him up, quenching something in him that he hadn’t known was thirsty. Casting cool shade on scorched wounds that had gone long untended.

The bond was so expansive that her thoughts were completely open to him.

She stroked her palms down his chest, over his abdomen, reveling in the shape and texture of every muscle.  Lingering over his hips, the taut little vee of muscle between them, the line of fine black hair that led to his groin. 

The pleasure she took in his body thrilled him. He touched her thighs, spanned his fingers over her hips–-not holding her, just feeling her move–-relishing the erotic flex and sway of her torso.

She worked herself on him single-mindedly, angling her hips with incredible precision so his cock struck exactly where she wanted it to–-using the length and the broad upward curve to stimulate a deep, delicious burn. 

Feeling that burn–-her pleasure _and_  his–-he flexed under her, aware that she watched his face, drinking his expression of pleasure.   _Aroused_  by it.

He was impossibly hard. She lifted herself high–-till she’d nearly released him–-and pushed down again, savoring the rigid glide, the way the stiff column filled her. The way he twitched inside her. 

“ _Sig_ ,” he growled, losing his restraint now. Thinking about flipping her beneath him and bending her legs back so he could ride her even deeper than he had on the quinship.

“No,” she said in a rough, implacable whisper, moving faster. “Like this. To the end.”

He growled again in assent and slid his hands up her belly under the shirt, cupping her naked breasts. Silky skin, nipples hard and hot. His touch was like dry kindling on a fire–-her sex grew tighter around him.  Pleasure gathered tightly in her lower body, in his.

“Good, Sig,” he rasped. “Faster, love.” 

Complying, she made a sound: breathy, desperate. Reading her thoughts, he gave her what she wanted; gripped her breasts and rolled them almost roughly in his palms.  

“ _Yes_ ,” she breathed. And then, looking down at him, gaze dark, hooded, she said, “Let me see you.” 

He understood immediately what she was asking-–it was there in her mind. But he hesitated, pleasure warring with denial-–with vulnerability.

“I want you,” she gasped, riding him. “I want to see all of you.”

Something about the words–-or perhaps the feelings behind them–-undid him.

Sigyn watched Loki’ face, reading his reluctance. His pleasure. A deep, hidden longing.

His appearance rippled and blurred, and then the Loki she knew melted into a stunning creature with supple blue skin and molten crimson eyes.

It took her breath away. Filled her with a tingling sort of amazement.

_Loki…Beautiful._

Heart swelling, she leaned down to kiss him, licked into his open mouth, took his tongue and suckled it gently. On a surge of renewed lust and emotion, his hands shifted to her hips, gripped her. She breathed hard into his mouth, whimpering as he began to thrust upward.

The combined friction of their movements drove her to a frenzy. She rose to brace herself on his chest, looking down at him-–floored by his azure skin, the blazing eyes–-feeling his need, inflamed by the wild surge of his pleasure. She stroked the smooth ridges that decorated his pectorals and rode his thrusts in pure desperation. 

The orgasm peaked, ruptured with volcanic intensity, locking her tight above him in a paroxysm of blind ecstasy.

She cried out, felt him continuing thrust–-his hands lifting her, pumping her on his cock with frantic urgency–-driving her higher, hotter, until she felt him seize. Felt his body bowing so hard he lifted her up, his hoarse cry and his pleasure blasting her senses, making her come again on a rasping scream while he jerked and jerked and spilled himself inside her.

When it was over she lay collapsed on his chest, harsh breath loud in her ears–-hers and his. And she was saying his name, over and over.

_Loki, Loki, Loki._


	12. Chapter 12

“I have some questions about your plan,” he said a few minutes later.

She was still lying limp on top of him, his sex half-hard inside her.

She lifted up to look at him, limbs heavy. Heart heavy.

His skin was pale again, his eyes blue.

“Why do you do that?”

His brows drew down. “Do what?”

“Hide.”

“I’m not hiding,” he bristled. “This is what I look like.”

“It’s an illusion.”

“It’s not,” he growled. “I know illusion.”

She sat up. “You’re Jotun, Loki.”

“Do you think I need you to tell me that?” he snapped. “Do you think I don’t know what I am?”

When she didn’t respond, he softened a little. “This is the form I took when Odin adopted me. I didn’t even know about the other for most of my life.”

“So you don’t consciously hold this form?”

He shook his head. “It takes effort to reveal the other.” His expression was guarded, a little sullen.

“You don’t like it?” she asked. “Your Jotun form?”

“Why would I?”

Such bitterness.

She didn’t have an answer so she said simply, “I do.”

That seemed to mollify him a bit.

“Can I see it again?”

His face closed down with reluctance.

“I didn’t get a good look before,” she wheedled. And then, in response to his wry expression, “I was a little preoccupied.”

“We have more important things to do right now.”

Gazing at his naked abdomen, his face, the tangle of his hair, she said, “I honestly can’t think of anything.”

His mouth quirked unwillingly. “Ridiculous.”

“I haven’t seen you completely naked yet,” she insisted.

One of his eyebrows lifted laconically. “And that’s more important than Malik?”

“Right now I can’t think of a single thing I want more.”

He laughed and the movement made his sex jerk inside her. She flexed around him involuntarily and his expression darkened with lust.

“I can actually feel you getting harder,” she murmured, heart thumping.

His eyes were very green.  “We don’t have time for this.”

“I know.” She rocked her hips minutely and he gripped her with both hands.

“Do that again and I’m going to do something depraved,” he growled.

“Promise?” She did it again.

He flipped her onto her back so fast it startled a yelp out of her. And then he was folding her legs back, just as he’d imagined doing earlier, using his arms braced against the mattress to hold her thighs to her chest. He looked down between their bodies and thrust slowly, watching his cock disappear inside her.

He gave a hoarse groan. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

Sig let the bond open, gave him the full brunt of her pleasure. He shuddered. Thrust again. Grabbed one of her legs and tucked it up over his shoulder, bending her even farther.

Then he took up a slow, steady pace, arching his back, nipping her inner thigh just above the knee. The movement of his cock inside her was positively slick from the results of their previous coupling. He was enjoying it, though, listening to the sounds. Relishing the liquid glide.

“You’re so tight,” he whispered, thrusting, all his attention on the wet grip of her sex. “ _God_ , that’s good.”

Sig tilted her hips to him, taking him deeper. Urging him on.

“You’re also sore,” he murmured, reading her body through the bond. “Shall I be gentle?”

Sig shook her head wordlessly, lifted her chest in silent demand. He pushed her shirt up and bent to take the tip of her breast into his mouth, his thrusts coming harder.

“You like it right here,” he whispered, angling his hips. Sig gasped as he thrust again, pleasure spiking.

“Yes,” she breathed.

He held himself there and thrust steadily, sucking her breast some more, pleasure pulling tight between the two points of stimulation.

His emotions were steady. He was focused on pleasing her, keeping his own lust in check, pacing himself carefully.

“Loki,”  she moaned, frustrated by his self-control. Wanting him wild.

“Shh.” He rolled her legs to the side, pinning her knees to the bed with one hand, yanking her panties down around her thighs before he penetrated her again. The new angle brought different sensations, pleasure building rapidly.

He touched her breast with his free hand because she was thinking about how much she loved it; the way he molded her flesh with his long, sensitive fingers. Even more, she loved his mouth there; the exquisite suction, the wet rasp of his tongue.

He bent and took the nipple into his mouth again, lust spiking. Thrusts coming harder, less controlled.

Deliberately, she thought about his sex. The size of him. The way it stretched her. How much she’d like to suck him and make him come that way.

“Sig,” he warned huskily, “Stop it.”

She wondered how he would taste. Imagined his sex jerking against her tongue as he came.

With a snarl, he flipped her onto her belly, yanked her panties further down and pinned her flat, holding her arms. Thighs bracketing her ass, he mounted her and thrust inside. His big body cupped her from behind as he started pumping again, aggressive now, composure crumbling.

Sig moaned, cheek pressed to the blankets, thrilled to her bones by his ferocity. Already she could feel the first tingle of impending orgasm.

_Yes_ , he thought savagely, anticipating the way her sex tightened and rippled when she came. Sig gasped, bucked beneath him. His teeth sank into the back of her neck and she whimpered.

Loki growled wordlessly, holding her like that, pumping hard, knowing that it thrilled her when he made such animal sounds.

And then he let go–-looked down her body at the fine sheen of sweat along her spine. Gazed at the rounded curves of her ass, which he found positively exquisite. She could almost see through his eyes: his cock wedged between her legs, the broad, glossy column pistoning rapidly.

“ _Loki–-ah!_ ” she cried, right on the edge.

“Say it,” he snarled, driving deeper–pressing her into the mattress.

“ _Coming!_ ” she cried, and then bit down hard on the blankets, screaming around the fabric as the orgasm struck.

Her pleasure brought him instantly. He snarled, pumping ferociously, gripping her shoulder with one hand and her arm with the other to hold her in place.

The spurt of his come struck her cervix, hot and thick. Her sensation of it communicated to him through the bond, and for some reason, it made him wild. He thrust so hard it drove her across the mattress. She felt his rumbling cry of satisfaction all the way down her spine like a shot, straight to her sex.

Loki poured his pleasure directly into their connection, giving her the sensation of his orgasm, of her sex spasming around him, of his whole body thrumming with gratification.

It created something like a feedback loop; Loki’s pleasure and Sig’s, reflecting back and forth, around and around so that the orgasm seemed to go on forever, intensifying exponentially until she lost all awareness of herself and became a roiling mass of lighted nerves and sparking pleasure.

 

* * *

 

“My god,” she said when she could speak again.

He was still panting against her shoulder,  propped partially on his elbows to keep his full weight from her. The bond was open and she could feel that he was wonderfully dazed. Satiated.  

“Yes,” he rumbled in agreement. Then he started to lift himself, felt her disappointment and gave her his weight again. She could feel his belly quivering against her ass and lower back. His chest rested against her upper back, every inch of him hot and slightly damp with sweat.

Sig was floored, heart still pounding. Overwhelmed. She couldn’t hide her feelings from him–-it was too late to hold back now–-but she tried to anyway. To her surprise and dismay, the bond would not respond to her efforts to close it

“Say the words.”

He made the demand in a soft, triumphant voice.

She bristled instantly.  _Arrogant bastard._  “No.”

He bit her shoulder and made her yelp. “Say it.”

“ _No._ ”  Irritated–-suddenly feeling a sharp sting of humiliation–-she pushed her shoulders back, “Get off.”

He didn’t budge. “You were enjoying it a moment ago.”

Sig tried to glare at him over her shoulder. “Well, now I’m not.”

There was a pause while he tried to read her, but anger was a very good shield. Sighing, he lifted himself and lay beside her on the mattress.

Sig shot up on to her knees, glaring at him while she yanked her panties up and her shirt down. He lay on his back and watched her intently, not even bothering to button his pants.

“Why are you angry?” There was a maddening edge of smugness in his demeanor.

“I’m not angry, I’m irritated,” she started to rise and he grabbed her wrist.

“Why are you irritated?” he asked, one eyebrow winging upward provocatively.

“Because you’re irritating,” she snapped, yanking her hand back.

She left him there and went to the bathroom to clean herself up. Paused to peer into the mirror and found her reflection wild and vulnerable.

She  _felt_  wild and vulnerable.

_Of all the men…_  she shook her head.  _I am such an idiot_.

She picked up her brush and attempted to tame her hair, ignoring the fact that her hands trembled and her heart felt…raw. Exposed.

She tested the bond again, found that she could make it shrink but not close entirely. Loki’s presence was inescapable.

And why was he so hard to read? Even now, all she got from him was a subtle sense of his awareness. A trickle of that irritating complacency.

He was  _listening_ , dammit.

She couldn’t even sort her thoughts out now without revealing everything to him. Frustrated, she shut her feelings away, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

She came back out and put on a clean pair of pants and a shirt. When she turned, he was lying exactly as he had been, watching her. He hadn’t even bothered to close his pants.

Resisting the urge to enjoy the view, she said, “Mad, are you here?” and had a moment of satisfaction as Loki scrambled to cover himself with the blanket.

Mad popped in beside her. “Yes, my Sigyn.”

“A warning would have been nice,” Loki said mildly.

Sig gave him a petulant look, knowing she was being childish and not giving a damn. “She probably watched the whole thing. I forgot to tell her to leave.”

The look on his face was priceless, if short-lived.

“I did not watch, my Sigyn. I know you like privacy for moments of intimacy,” said Mad.

“Much appreciated,” Loki murmured dryly. Having buttoned himself under the blanket, he rose to a sitting position. “Shall we talk about Malik?”

Sig looked a question at Mad.

Mad nodded. “He comes.”

Loki straightened as Sig’s stomach clenched with dread. “Now?”

“Yes,” Mad replied.

“How does he know where we are?” Loki had swung his legs over the edge of the bed and was reaching for his shirt, which lay on the floor.

Mad said, “The timelines have collapsed.”

_Oh, god._  Sig swallowed, suddenly queasy.

“What does that mean?” Loki demanded.

“There are many possibilities,” Mad said, “Many possible timelines. When pivotal events occur, there is a point at which those possibilities may collapse into only one timeline, and an outcome is set.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell us the outcome?” Sig asked.

Mad shook her head. “I cannot.”

Loki scowled. “Why?”

“It could compromise the timeline, and a new set of possibilities would be born.”

“What if those possibilities are better?” he asked.

“I cannot see them,” the Tolok replied simply. “It would be folly to take such risk. And it goes against Oath.” She looked at Sigyn with an apology in her enormous eyes. “This is how I became exiled from Tolok. I do not wish to make the same mistake again.”

“You’re already in exile,” said Loki. “What’s left to lose?”

“Sigyn,” the Tolok replied simply.  

Loki’s jaw tightened. “Point taken.”

“So, the obscurations are gone? You  _can_  see the outcome now?” Sig asked hopefully.

“No, my Sigyn. I am sorry.”

_Damn._

“How is Malik able to do that, by the way?” Loki queried. “The machine that was harvesting your energy is still at SHIELD, isn’t it? He’s not using your powers.”

“I do not know, my Loki.”

Sig started.  _My Loki?_   She looked at him and he shrugged.

“How he’s doing it isn’t important right now. He can see the outcome, can’t he? He wouldn’t be coming here if it was bad for him.” Sig watched the Tolok’s face. “Would he?”

Mad shrugged. “Perhaps, in casting obscurations, he has obscured his own future from himself. He is not Tolok. His mastery of time is fair at best.”

“‘Perhaps,’” Loki repeated darkly. “I’m not sure I like those odds.”

“There’s nothing to do but move forward,” Sig said grimly.

“Or,” Loki countered, “We could just fly off into space and subvert the whole timeline ourselves.”  He looked at Mad, brows raised.

“Malik would follow. There are many paths to a single outcome,” the Tolok replied.

“Wait. You said the timelines had collapsed,” Sig frowned.

Mad nodded, “All of our current possible timelines lead to a single near-future possibility.”

“So even if we go, we will end up back here.”

Mad nodded. “So to speak. There isn’t much time.”

There was a heavy silence as Sig looked to Loki.

“Well then, we had better get to it.” He smiled grimly.

 

* * *

 

Sig hadn’t lied about the fancy flying-–but she hasn’t told the whole truth, either.

She and the Tolok did it together–-Mad communicating perfectly timed predictions about the movements of the asteroids via their bond. Loki could actually feel their connection like an echo through his own bond with Sig.

There weren’t even any words exchanged psychically between them. Mad knew where to fly and when, and she simply projected that knowledge directly into Sig’s mind.

The trust between them was remarkable.

It produced a very unwelcome twinge of jealousy on Loki’s part, which he squashed unmercifully.

When they emerged from the field, the little planet came into view. It was a desert dwarf-–its entire surface flat and brown and dreadfully inhospitable-looking.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Sig told him, as they entered its atmosphere. “Wait until we get closer.”

Sure enough, once they were well inside the atmosphere, the planet’s appearance began to blur. A moment later, they popped through a massive projection shield and Loki saw thin smears of green and blue where before had been the dry bed of an ocean.

“Clever,” he said honestly. “How did you accomplish that?”

“A bit of technology we took from Malik, actually. When Mad and I first escaped.”

From the co-pilot’s chair, he gave her an appraising look. “Quick thinking.”

“Hardly,” she hit a few keys on the console as they neared the surface, prepping the ship for landing. “I was out of my mind at the time. Mad was the one doing all the thinking.”

“Sigyn suffered much from the effects of mind control and memory manipulation,” the Tolok murmured. 

He glanced at Mad, who stood just behind Sig, one small hand resting on the back of Sig’s chair.

“You freed her from him,” Loki said, watching her elfin face. “And then you helped her escape.”

Mad nodded. “She freed me, too.”

“I’d like to hear that story, someday.”

Sig flicked a disconcerted look in his direction at the same time the Tolok smiled at him and said, “I would be pleased to tell you of it, my Loki.”

“When did this ‘my Loki’ business start, anyway?” Sig asked.

“Jealous?” Loki asked provocatively.

“Of whom would I be jealous, exactly?”

He just grinned at her.

“Toloks do not form romantic attachments, my Sigyn. I have no designs on Loki,” Mad said reassuringly.

Loki burst into laughter as Sig said, “I  _know_  that, you idiot.”

“Perhaps she’s worried that I’ll steal you away from her,” Loki said to the Tolok.

Sig rolled her eyes.

Mad replied, “It is more likely that you will steal her away from me, my Loki.”

That produced a startled, awkward silence.

Loki glanced at Sig, but she was watching the ground as they neared it, guiding the ship to a disused landing pad near a low grey building. Her profile was unreadable. She was shielding her emotions from him too, which was just as well.

Bloody hell.  _No, it wasn’t._  He hated that he didn’t know what she was thinking, feeling.  Somehow he’d come to rely on it. But she’d kept him out since their last bout of lovemaking.

He still felt a rush of elation when he thought of that. Elation, confusion…doubt. He’d felt so sure he understood her feelings at that moment.  _By Valhalla_ , he’d never expected… never even imagined she could…

But it had been real, hadn’t it? His doubt–-the niggling disbelief he felt even now–-made him want to demand the words again.

If she would just say it, that would make it real.

_And then what?_

He glanced at Mad, who was watching the ground as well, a look of joyful, childlike anticipation painted across her elfin features.

The Tolok had accepted him. He understood that. Had Sig? She’d bonded herself to him out of necessity, after all. Perhaps when all was said and done, she’d cast him out, too.

Not that he would give her the chance.

But then…back at the SHIELD compound--what had she said?

_I’ll leave you alone if you that’s what you want._

If.

It sat in his heart like a stone, that if.

_Did_  he want that?

He couldn’t allow himself to imagine a future-–his thoughts simply rebelled, scattered under a wave of conflicting emotions. Like the jealousy, he squashed them quickly, before they could communicate themselves to Sig.

For the moment, there was only the three of them,  _now,_  and Malik. The impending battle. The unknown outcome. The was no after yet. Maybe there wouldn’t be one at all.

It didn’t serve him to think about it now.

 


	13. Chapter 13

They had less than an hour to prepare before Malik’s ship triggered the proximity alarm.

Sig stood on the empty landing pad, waiting.

His ship looked just like hers: wide, saucer-shaped body with distinctive, sling-back wings. Malik’s was larger and pristine white, where hers was black. The front window was opaque as the ship landed, near silent in the simmering heat.

The bond was open wide. Watching from the screen inside the docking bay, Loki could feel her fear. Her determination. He fed her all the strength he could muster and she took it without hesitation. Mad was there too, her presence echoing to Loki through Sig’s bond. The Tolok’s energy signature was like cool water and a touch of sunshine. She, too, channeled all her strength to Sig.

The hatch opened and a man in crisp white robes stepped onto the landing pad. Loki wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t this.

Malik was tall–-at least as tall as Sig–-with long, thin white hair and skin so pale it was almost translucent. His frame was narrow, too thin to be delicate. Instead, he looked…brittle. His long, narrow face was dominated by deep-set eyes: large, like Mad’s, but black as deep space.

There was madness in them.

“Sigyn,” he said, in a startlingly clear, musical voice.

His face softened when he looked at her. Sig’s heart turned to stone.

_Now_ , came the Tolok’s quiet command, echoing directly through Loki’s bond with Sig.

Inside the docking bay, Loki slapped a button on the console.

At the same moment, the image of Sigyn on the landing pad dissolved and Malik crumpled under the force of the gravity lock.

“ _What?_ ” the man cried, straining to lift his head.

“Somehow, I didn’t really think that would work,” said the real Sig, standing beside Loki inside the docking bay.

“He had no way of knowing there’d be a grav lock,” Loki replied.

She nodded. “There are benefits to living on a planet that’s constantly threatened by the gravitational forces of a massive asteroid field. We lost two skiffs before we got the grav lock installed.” She took a deep breath, “Alright, hit the doors.”

Loki glanced away from the image of Malik on the screen. “I’m coming with you.”

“Not yet. I need to face him alone.” She met his gaze and the flow of her emotions shifted from dread to…

“Sig,” he rasped, reaching for her on a swell of joy and heartbreak.

She let him pull her into his arms. He kissed her once, roughly, before she broke away.

“Don’t let him see you until the time is right,” she said, walking towards the bay doors. She flashed him a smile, “You’re my secret weapon.”

He entered the code to open the doors and for a moment she was silhouetted against the bright sunlight and dry earth outside. And then she strode out to meet Malik.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sigyn,” he said again, struggling to rise.

“Hello, Father.”

On hands and knees, Malik looked up at her, black eyes gleaming with emotion. He was older, thinner than she remembered. Face lined and haggard in a way she’d never seen before.

“It must give you such pleasure to see me helpless at your feet.” His thin lips twisted.

“It doesn’t,” she replied with perfect honesty.

He smiled: a grimace of humor. “I underestimated you.”

Throat tight, stomach knotted with emotion, she said softly, “You always do.”

His arms buckled under the force of the gravity lock and he fought to right himself, head hanging.

It shamed her, to see him so–-and the shame made her furious.

“I didn’t come to fight,” he said, long hair hanging in the dirt.

She laughed bitterly. “No, of course not.”

He looked up at her and his face was the picture of remorse. “I’m dying, child.”

Sig’s heart beat painfully in her chest. “Get on with it, then.”

“You don’t mean that,” he rasped, eyes pleading. “You can save me. Heal me.”

“Is that why you came, then? To throw yourself on my mercy? I’ll believe that when hell freezes over.”

The pleading look crumpled a little around the edges, showing defeat. “You need only open yourself to me to know I speak the truth.”

She laughed and the bitterness of it stung her throat. “You don’t really expect me to fall for that, do you?”

“Please, Sigyn,” he whispered.

She looked into his eyes, feeling sick at the touch of his gaze, holding it anyway, determined.

“Never again,” she murmured.

The finality of it made the words seem loud. His eyes widened, flashing rage for just an instant. With a lurch, he came to his knees.

At the same moment, Sig heard footsteps behind her, and Malik’s gaze snapped towards the sound. His lip curled slightly. Sig tore her gaze away and looked down as Mad’s hand slid into hers.

The Tolok looked up at her, mouth quirked in a smile of conspiration.

Surprising herself, Sig smiled too and then turned back to Malik with renewed confidence. He was watching the Tolok with an expression of naked suspicion.

“What is this?” he demanded darkly.

“Rope,” Sig replied. “Just enough to hang yourself with.”

That black gaze snapped to Sig’s face. “You would make this too easy for me.”

“‘Would’?”

“I have no need of the Tolok. I told you, I did not come to fight.”

“And I told you, I don’t believe you.”

He looked at the Tolok again, anger leaking through his mask of helplessness.

“Drop it, Malik,” Sig said, suddenly exhausted, “We’re never going to buy this reform act.”

“Heal me,” he begged. “And I’ll go. You’ll never see me again.”

A host of angry responses flooded Sig’s mind. Accusations, recriminations. Finally, she said simply, “No.”

Malik let the facade slip away. His face turned hard, eyes cold and dead as he glared at her. “I created you. You belong to me. You  _will_ obey.”

Mad’s hand tightened in hers.

“No,” Sig repeated quietly.

Malik looked to the Tolok with glittering, predatory intent.

“ _Release me_ ,” he commanded, each syllable echoing with his power.

It struck Sig like a physical blow, though it wasn’t for her. Beside her, Mad stumbled back a step and Sig gripped her hand hard.

“ _Obey!_ ” He cried, like the crack of a whip. Mad’s knees buckled–-she felt to the dirt. The air around her rippled.

_Loki_ , Sig reached out to him through the bond, to give him strength.

Mad shook her head, releasing Sig’s hand, shoving it away as she–-as  _he_  shoved away the strength Sig offered.

The illusion collapsed, and it was Loki there, kneeling in the dirt, shaking his head against the barrage of Malik’s power.

“What is this?” Malik hissed, voice echoing rage, demanding confession.

“I am Loki,” said the God of Mischief, coming slowly to his feet, handsome face cold with rage. “Of Asgard.”

Malik’s expression flickered, creased again with wrath. He looked to Sig. “You think this worm can protect you?”

“Let me kill him,” Loki grated, his rage pulsing along the bond.

Sig held up a hand as Loki lurched toward the man kneeling on the landing pad. “Don’t touch him,” she said calmly. “His power is much stronger through physical contact.”

“You’ve whored yourself to him,” Malik hissed in outrage. “Because you’re too weak to face me on your own.” To Loki he said, “Do you think she cares for you?”

Loki simply glared down at him with aristocratic disdain. “She gave herself to me willingly. Can you say the same?”

Malik blanched with rage. His power spiked, redoubled, washing over them both with incredible force–-with sheer desperation.

Sig suddenly wanted to turn and run back to the docking bay–-to release the gravity field. The desire rose within her like a tidal wave. Resistance produced genuine physical pain: a stabbing sensation behind her eyes, like fine needles. She looked at Loki, saw that he fought it, too. 

_Help me_ , she whispered, and felt him open. Drank his rage, his bloodlust. His desire to protect her.

At the same moment, Mad’s presence flowered in her consciousness, washing her in a familiar wave of love and compassion. Malik’s power receded on a rush of relief, along with the urge to go to the docking bay.

For the first time, Sig wondered if he really was dying. Even with two bonds, he’d nearly had her. Only desperation could make him so strong.

_Sig._

It was Loki. He didn’t have Mad’s strength to draw on. He was backing slowly towards the docking bay, fighting with everything he had not to collapse under the weight of Malik’s power. Through the bond, she could feel his mind begin to buckle.

“Malik, stop!” she cried, to no avail.

Loki stumbled back again, and Malik bore down on him, black eyes blazing.

Sig pulled the gun from the back of her pants and pointed it at Malik.

“ _Stop_ ,” she said again.

Black eyes swung to the barrel of the weapon, and then to Sig’s face.

“You love me still,” he said softly, triumphantly. He didn’t believe she would do it. 

Loki’s agony pulled at her. Malik attacked him unrelentingly, even as Sig advanced to the edge of the landing pad, gun aimed directly at Malik’s face. “I will,” she said, and it sounded weak even to her own ears.

Malik sneered. “Did you tell him you’re sterile? That I cast you out because I couldn’t mate you?” He looked to Loki, who had come down on one knee in an effort to stop moving towards the docking bay. “She is incomplete, you know. Good for nothing but war.”

Loki shook his head, eyes glazed. Whether in denial of what Malik said or in an effort to clear his mind, it was impossible to tell.

Sig grated her teeth against the pain his words brought. The shame. The anger. “You didn’t cast me out,” she rasped, gaze blurring with tears. “You  _raped_ me– _my own father!_ ” The words we so sharp they hurt her ears.  Tears made hot tracks across her cheeks. The gun trembled in her hand. “And when you realized I could never give you children, you imprisoned me! You pretended to love me until I was of no use to you anymore,  _and then you locked me away in a cell like an animal!_ ”

Loki’s pain rushed to her along the bond, stealing her breath. His pain  _for her_.

At the same time, Malik’s face seemed to crumple, fury giving way to remorse. “I did love you, my child.”

“ _I don’t believe you!_ ” she screamed, shocking herself. Shocking him.

His power faltered a fraction. She felt Loki rise from the ground and step towards her. Her finger tightened on the trigger, rage and pain pumping through every vein.

_My Sigyn._

Mad’s energy flooded her, softening the razor edges of her agony. Urging her to lower the gun.

Sig heard herself sob aloud–-a deep, ragged sound.

_I have to do it, Mad. It won’t end unless I kill him now. It won’t ever end until he’s dead!_

_Please do not, my Sigyn. Your suffering will be too great._

_I’ll do it_ , came Loki’s furious rumble.  _I won’t suffer an ounce._

_It is not your place_ , murmured the Tolok.

_So what, we let him live?_  Loki cried,  _So he can come back and do this to her again?_

_No, my Loki._

_What then?_  Sig was still sobbing, staring into Malik’s eyes. He swallowed visibly, and she understood then that he’d been bluffing. He wasn’t sure at all that she couldn’t kill him.

Neither was she.

_The timelines have cleared, my Sigyn,_  the Tolok said gently. And then, with an edge of regret,  _There is another way._

Suddenly Loki was at her side. He reached around her and put his hand on the gun. “Give it to me,” he said gently.

She stiffened. “No. He’s my father. I’ll kill him myself.”

“Sig,” he murmured, and his emotion swamped her again, bringing fresh tears, making her fingers go slack on the gun.

Malik’s eyes widened–-not in fear, in anticipation.

“Loki, don’t!” she cried, as he pried the gun from her nerveless fingers. At the same moment, Malik’s power surged again.

“ _Shoot her!_ ” he snarled, black eyes shining with triumph.  Sig spun towards Loki, heart in her throat, prepared to fight him.

He pointed the gun at Malik and said very calmly, “Don’t be stupid.”

And then he pulled the trigger.

 

* * *

 

They were in the aether before the blast had escaped the barrel. Sig watched it fly as though in slow motion, cutting the green mists like a laser and passing harmlessly through Malik as though he were nothing but a projection.

Loki spun on the Tolok in outrage and she simply held up a small, pale hand.

_Watch, my Loki._

He was standing very close to Sig, one arm curled protectively around her waist. They turned together to look at Malik, who struggled violently against the force of the grav lock.

_Tolok!_  He bellowed.  _Where are you? Come and release me, you traitor!_

_What is he–-?_  Sig started, bewildered.

A small, childlike figure appeared beside the landing pad.

_What?_  Loki exclaimed softly. He looked at Mad.  _Is that…?_

Mad nodded, little face very grave.  _He is Tolok._

Malik was yelling, demanding to be released, flailing madly against the force of the grav lock.

The Tolok beside him turned and looked directly at Sig and the others, as though he could see them through the veil. His face was the same, but older somehow, though it bore not a wrinkle. He looked at Mad and the younger Tolok took Sig’s hand and squeezed it.

Her little heart was aching. Sig had never felt such pain from her. Such longing.

Such loss.

The unknown Tolok turned back to Malik and said something too soft for them to hear. Malik’s eyes widened. He froze for a moment, on hands and knees again, white robe smeared with dirt and dust, face flushed with rage–-with madness. And then he began to scream and thrash in violent desperation.

_You cannot do this! Release me! Release me now, Tolok, I command you!!_

_I am not yours to command_ , said the Tolok.  _Goodbye, King of Aldur. I wish you well in the next life._

And then he popped through the veil and left Malik there alone to curse the empty air, eyes rolling, spraying saliva like a rabid dog.

Feeling sick, Sig turned away and found herself blocked by Loki. She stood in the half circle of his arm, staring blankly at his shoulder, too overwhelmed to be comforted by his nearness or the warm flow of his emotions.

Mad was holding her hand still. Something made Sig look down at her.

The other Tolok stood before her, his elfin face very calm. He was taller than Mad by a few inches. His hair a shade darker, eyes a shade lighter.

_You broke Oath, little one_ , he said gently to Mad.

_Yes, Tolok_ , Mad replied almost inaudibly. Her pain tightened Sig’s throat.  _For_ _Sigyn._

She looked up then, and Sig was stunned to see her little face tracked with tears.

Five thousand years and Sig had never seen the Tolok cry.

_Hasn’t she been punished enough?_  Sig asked roughly.  _How long will you keep her in exile?_

_This Tolok had fulfilled her sentence_ , he replied, eyes wide and unblinking.  _But she broke Oath again, today._

_Again?_  Loki exclaimed.  _When?_

_When she saved you,_  the Tolok replied, looking at Sig.

Mad bowed her head.

_Saved me?_  Sig repeated, bewildered.  _But Malik…_  she glanced up at Loki, and then at the Tolok again.  _It was Malik she saved. Wasn’t it?_

He shook his head and pointed to the Aldurian still wailing and struggling on the landing pad.  _Look._

They all turned.

_What are we looking for, exactly?_  Loki demanded, his arm tightening against Sigyn’s back.

He’d felt the surge of her emotions when she looked at Malik. She tried to close the bond, to shield him from the seething turmoil inside her.

Loki looked at her sharply.  _Don’t._

Surprised, she relented. His satisfaction made her heart squeeze painfully.

She made herself look again and was startled to see that Malik had stilled. He was crouched on hands and knees still, staring fixedly at his hands.

Sig felt something very strange then–-a cold trickle along her senses. The hairs all along her spine stood on end.

_What is that?_  asked Loki, feeling it too.

And then Malik looked up and his face was collapsing, turning to ash, blowing away on the desert wind in a long, curling grey cloud.

In a moment, there was nothing left.

_What…?_  Sig gasped,  _What just…?_

She felt Loki’s incredulity. Mad’s regret.

_The cycle begins anew_ , said the strange Tolok, very softly.  

He met Sigyn’s blank, bewildered gaze.  _You were fated to die this day, Tolok-friend._  He gestured to Mad.  _This one has broken Oath again, to save you._

 

* * *

 

 

“So Thanos has succeeded,” Loki said grimly.

The Tolok nodded, his wide eyes emotionless. “Half of all life in the universe has been wiped away.”

They were in the spacious living chamber of Sig’s little underground fortress. Mad sat subdued in one of two large, cushioned chairs, with Sig rooted to the spot behind her. The male Tolok was at the opposite end of the coffee table, face impassive. Loki paced behind the long grey couch between them. 

Sig’s face was blank, eyes glazed with shock. Too much had happened. She was at her limit. Loki seethed with the desire to shield her. To draw her away and comfort her. It was a bizarre feeling, to say the least. Giving comfort wasn’t in his nature.

At the same time, those desires were tangled up with his lust for her. It was normal, after a battle, to feel…stimulated. But Loki was nearly frantic with the need to touch her, be inside her. Feel her pleasure echoing through their bond.

She glanced at him then, and he understood with a start that the hunger he was feeling wasn’t just his own.

But it wasn’t the time.

Sig looked to the male Tolok, who had insisted that they call him simply, ‘Tolok.’ He said the word differently than Mad did, however, which led to a brief discussion of Tolok culture. Namely that all Toloks were called Tolok, and they differentiated rank and status only by the subtle use of inflection.

Apparently, this Tolok was a high ranking elder of the race, though he looked nearly as childlike as Mad.

“Malik couldn’t control you,” Sig said suddenly. “Why is that?”

“I have the strength of all Tolok to protect me. We have a bond. Just as you have a bond with Tolok-Mad and Tolok-Friend Loki.”

“But you were helping him, weren’t you?” she said. “ _Why?_ ”

Tolok regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. His eyes were very pale-–almost colorless compared to Mad’s soft lavender gaze.

“It was necessary,” he replied finally, in typical cryptic Tolok fashion.

Sig sighed. “I don’t suppose you can elaborate.”

“I cannot.”

“It was for the good of the universe,” Mad said softly, chin tucked to her chest. She seemed to be staring at her hands where they lay clasped in her lap.

Tolok looked at her curiously.

“Right,” Sig said in utter defeat. “Seems to have done a lot of good, what with half of all life wiped out.”

Loki found himself rounding the couch towards her. She saw him coming and shifted back, shaking her head minutely. Lust and emotion spiked between.

He turned and paced away again.

_Later._

To Mad he growled, “Did you know?”

“Not until the timelines cleared, my Loki,” she said, without looking up.

“It was you who obscured the timelines, wasn’t it?” Sig said.

Tolok nodded.

“You orchestrated all of this. The Avengers finding Mad. Loki. Malik.”

“We did not orchestrate your connection with this God of Mischief,” said Tolok, gesturing to Loki. “That was fated.”

Sig and Loki shared a moment of blank shock.

_Fated? Like, as in…?_

Sig glanced at him.  _Pretty sure fated means the same thing to him as it does to us._

“Some timelines are set to cross, even before birth,” Mad murmured. “It cannot be avoided, though the timing of the intersection can be manipulated. This is what we–-what Tolok means by fated.”

Again, Tolok regarded her with something akin to fascination.

“Okay…” Sig started, “So Loki and I were fated to meet, but you orchestrated the rest.”

Tolok nodded.

“I still want to know why,” Loki said tightly. “What does all this have to do with Thanos, and why would you help orchestrate the demise of half the universe?”

Tolok regarded him calmly. “All timelines are ultimately interconnected. We are not permitted to change events of such magnitude directly.”

“What the hell does that  _mean_?” Loki snarled.

Mad shifted nervously in the cushioned chair. Loki had never seen her exhibit so much emotion before today. The fidgeting alone was unnerving.

At last, she looked up, glancing at Tolok apologetically before she explained, “By interfering in small events, one may influence larger events. Direct interference in events involving many timeline intersections frequently causes… complications.”

_Okay, that’s something_.

“So you’re saying that by influencing our timeline, you indirectly influenced Thanos’ timeline,” said Sig.

Tolok and Mad nodded in unison.

Loki’s irritation spiked. “But half of all life? Did you let that happen on purpose?”

Tolok looked mildly surprised. “Of course.”

Mad interrupted before Loki could muster a response. “It is against Oath to change events directly, my Loki. Thanos' success could not be averted without breaking Oath and causing potentially much greater damage.”

“Thanos has the time stone. Do you think he’s concerned about your bloody Oaths?”

“Loki…” Sig said quietly.

“Well, what good does it do to have all this power if they won’t use it to save  _half of all life in the universe?!_ ” he cried, furious.

“Some things can be undone,” said Tolok.

Even Mad looked stunned. Maybe more stunned than either Loki or Sig.

Tolok continued, unphased. “Tolok has transmuted some of the old laws.” He looked at Mad steadily. “We have…grown.”

“Grown?” Mad repeated in a small, hopeful voice.

“Your crime against Tolok was the first of its kind, little one. But not the last. Our councils have studied the timelines for ten thousand years in your absence, trying to understand the value of your action. We…experimented.”

Mad’s eyes widened.

_Ten thousand years_ , echoed Sig.  _Is that how long you were exiled, Mad?_

Without looking at her, Mad nodded.

“It is the nature of the universe to change,” Tolok went on, “Yet Tolok had not changed. We find change very difficult. Perhaps this is why our planet and our purpose were lost.”

He paused for what seemed a long time, looking at Mad. “We have learned much from you. We have much yet to learn. You have formed bonds with non-Tolok. You understand the universe from a very un-Tolok perspective. Your exile has made you invaluable to us. We wish to learn further. To change with the universe. To be of service.”

Mad’s eyes filled slowly with tears

“Your crimes are forgiven.” Tolok bowed to her, deeply. “Please forgive us, Tolok. Please return.”


	14. Chapter 14

“My name is Mad now, Tolok,” Mad murmured.

“You wish to keep this name?” he replied curiously.

“Yes. It has become…dear.” She looked up at Sig, violet eyes bright. Her joy flowed gently through the bond, but the shock of it all was too much for Sig. First Loki, and then Malik, and now Mad. She felt…numb.

Mad’s brow creased with concern and Sig waved her away, realizing as she did it how absurd the gesture was.

Mad was going to leave her. Return to her people. They’d been together five thousand years. And Sig had just dismissed all of that with a single casual gesture.

Loki circled the couch toward her again, radiating emotion. There was less lust coming off him this time, but she waved him away, too, overwhelmed by his intensity–-by her own response to it. Feeling that she might crumble if he touched her.

He growled in frustration and paced back toward Tolok.

“Why have you chosen this name, Tolok-Mad?” asked Tolok, apparently oblivious to the silent exchange of emotions between the other three people in the room. “What significance does it hold?”

“This is the name Tolok gave me when I broke Oath,” Mad replied quietly. “I took it with me into exile.”

Sig was shocked–-or would have been if she hadn’t felt so far away.

“They said you were mad because of what you’d done.” Loki, too, seemed stunned by the admission.

Mad nodded and he looked at the little Tolok with new respect. Underneath that, there was a thread of real compassion from him. He was…moved.

“We are sorry, Tolok-Mad,” Tolok said softly.

“ _Are_  you?” Loki demanded. “You speak for all of Tolok?”

“We are.” Tolok replied. “I do.”

“So, you want Mad back because she can help you undo what Thanos has done,” he said tightly, pivoting on his heel to pace back towards Mad and Sig. “Suddenly she’s useful to you again.”

“No,” Tolok replied. “We always wished for Tolok-Mad to return. She is Tolok.”

“Then why did you leave her in exile for ten thousand years?” Sig demanded.

“That was her sentence,” Tolok replied simply.

“You knew what would happen to her. What she would become. What she would learn,” Loki insisted. “You kept her in exile because you knew it would benefit you later.”

Tolok shook his head. “We knew only the possibilities.”

“Did you orchestrate? For Mad?”

“No,” Tolok replied. “That would have violated the terms of her exile.”

Sig’s brain felt like it would burst, trying to understand the minds of Toloks.

“So how will you change what’s been done?” Loki asked. “How can you bring back half the universe without interfering directly?”

“There are many possibilities, Tolok-friend,” Tolok replied evenly. “I cannot speak of them directly.”

“It could change the outcome, my Loki,” Mad added softly.

He sighed, tossing one hand up in exasperation.

“There is nothing further for you to do now, Tolok-friends,” said Tolok. “Perhaps there may be, if the right timelines are chosen. But that is unknown.”

Loki glared at him. “So we just leave this in your hands? Go on about our lives as if nothing happened?”

Tolok nodded impassively.

“What will you do?” Sig asked.

“We will study the timelines further,” Tolok replied. “We will orchestrate for the good of the universe.”

_Whatever that means,_  Loki thought bitterly.

Abruptly it was too much for Sig. The room began to swim. “I have to go now,” Sig heard herself mumble. “I have to…”

She stumbled down the hall into the bathroom and vomited roundly into the low toilet, vivid images flashing through her mind. Malik, black eyes filled with rage. With regret. His face collapsing into ash. And then Mad, her eyes spilling tears of relief as Tolok asked her to return to her people. Even Loki’s blue-green gaze, filled with lust and emotion.

She should have died today, there on the landing pad with Malik. 

_Half of all life._

But there was nothing to be done about that.

Malik was gone. She should be happy.

Mad would be allowed to return to her people. That should be happy news, too.

And Loki…

Her heart beat so hard her chest began to ache. Her throat and lungs burned. No matter how deeply she breathed, she couldn’t get enough air. Her vision began to speckle.

_Panic attack, it’s just a panic attack._

Someone flushed the toilet. She looked up.

“Loki.”

He crouched beside her and pressed a glass of water into her hand. “Drink.”

Gasping, she shook her head. “Not thirsty.”

“You’re in shock,” he murmured. He was touching her face. “Breathe slowly. Look at me.”

Her heart was beating erratically, losing its rhythm. She made herself focus on his eyes. Beautiful eyes, dark lashes.  

He smiled. “Thank you. Your pupils are dilated. Is there a bag around here for you to breathe into?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Can’t think. Kitchen maybe.”

“Wait here.” He rose and disappeared down the hall. Sig felt a sharp and unexpected jolt of raw panic-–the irrational fear that he wouldn’t come back. She gripped the edge of the toilet and squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to calm. 

He did come back, after what seemed like ages but was probably only a handful of minutes.

“Here,” he crouched next to her again and handed her a plastic bag. “I also found this,” he had a bottle of liquor in his other hand. He twisted off the cap and took a swig while she made herself breathe slowly into the bag.

When she’d calmed a little he handed her the bottle and she took a long pull. It was Xandarian whiskey–-rich, strong. It burned like hell. She took another swig.

At last, her heart began to slow. Loki was sitting on the floor beside her now, stroking her back up and down. How long had he been doing that?

“Too bad you’ve only got me for a nurse,” he smiled. “My bedside manner is…questionable.”

Sig thought he was doing pretty well. His hand was warm and his voice soothing.

“Can you get up?” he asked a few minutes later.

She nodded.

“Come on,” he stood and helped her to her feet. Her knees buckled and she grabbed hold of his jacket to keep from crumbling. Her joints felt loose and watery. Her hands trembled like crazy.

“Alright. Come on.” He scooped her up, one arm behind her knees, the other around her back, catching her by surprise.

“Hey!”

He ignored her; carried her down the hall to the bedroom. Sig hated feeling so helpless. It was terrible, like an itch under the skin.

On the other hand, his face was very close, and she’d forgotten how nice he smelled, somehow, which was very nice indeed.

“Thank you.” He deposited her on the edge of the bed and started untying her boot laces.

“Why do you keep saying that?”

He glanced up as the first boot came off, mouth curving on one side. “Because you keep mumbling compliments at me.”

She frowned. “I was  _thinking_  compliments. Get out of my head.”

“Bit late for that.” He smirked at her left boot as he set it on the floor beside the right one. 

“Don’t smirk. It makes my stomach hurt.” 

That didn’t make sense, she realized. But somehow, it was true. Every time his lips curved she felt a deep pang of…loss.

“Oh?” he looked up in surprise. “Do you feel sick?”

She nodded, vision blurring. “What…?” She touched her face and found it wet. “Am I crying?”

“It would seem so.”

“Shit.” She grabbed a handful of blankets and pulled them up to wipe her face. “Ugh. Smells musty.” 

“You need to lie down.” He was still crouching in front of her, fingers curling around her calves.

She shook her head. “I’m not lying down on musty old bedding. This hasn’t been changed in months.” They’d been away a long time, she realized. So much had happened.

“Fine,  _princess_. Where do you keep the clean bedding?”

She pointed at the dresser in the corner and he rose. 

She opened her mouth to ask where Mad was and then closed it again, wiping away a fresh wave of tears, this time on her sleeve.

Loki turned with the clean bedding in his arms. “Here, hold this.”

She took the folded sheets and pillowcases without complaint and Loki motioned her to sit in the chair next to the vanity, then steadied her as she rose, guiding her across the room.

“Stop hovering,” she batted him away.

“Stop wobbling, then.” He turned and started stripping the bed.

Sig clutched the sheets to her chest. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Loki glanced at her as he tossed the old sheets into a heap on the floor. “Yeah, she’s gone.”

Her vision blurred again. “Shit.”

He took the bedding from her, then produced a handkerchief from absolutely nowhere and held it out to her.

She laughed wetly. “You’re like a magician.”

Scowling, he wiggled the scrap of cloth at her. “ _Sorcerer_ , thank you very much.”

She took it and he went back to making the bed while she wiped her face.

“I’m keeping this,” she said unapologetically. It was black, with a beautiful green Celtic style pattern hand-stitched along the edge. Snakes curled around each other in a complex s-shape. 

“It’s all yours,” he replied without turning.

“There’s a second ship, you know. In a bunker about a kilometer south. In case you’re thinking of leaving, too.” She blinked back a fresh wave of tears.  _Why the fuck did I say that?_

He turned and looked at her in consternation, a soft grey pillowcase dangling from one hand.

The words spilled out of her mouth. She couldn’t stop them. “I guess you could take Malik’s ship. It’s much nicer. I can show you how to reprogram it, even. Aldurian ships have some of the best technology in the universe.”

“You’re babbling,” he said disdainfully.

Sig leaned forward and pressed her face into her hands.

After a moment he said, “Have I overstayed my welcome already?”

She shook her head, blurted, “You were thinking about it earlier. About leaving.” The words were muffled into her hands.  _Pathetic. Stupid._

She’d meant to play dumb. To let him sneak away. Panic welled again. Shame and regret. Words tumbled unbidden from her mouth, “I feel so stupid right now.”

He was silent for a few heartbeats, and then he said briskly, “You’re not stupid. Not that you require my input on the matter.”

She rubbed her eyes hard, willing the tears to stop.  _Please, for god’s sake, just stop._

“You have dust smeared all over your face.” He murmured when she finally looked up at him.

“It’s a desert planet,” she replied dully. “One does get dirty if one spends any length of time outside.  _You_  look like a walking dust bunny.”  

“Do I?” He looked down at his dirty clothes. “Perhaps a bath is in order.”

She thought about that. “Can shocked people take baths without certain other people hovering unnecessarily?”

“They can if they’re willing to wash my back.”

Sharing a bath with Loki. Naked. Now  _that_  sounded nice.

“Deal,” she said, smiling through her tears.

 

* * *

 

By the time he got her undressed and rinsed off in the shower, she wasn’t crying anymore. That was an improvement, but her eyes were still glazed and her face rather pale. She didn’t feel right, either. Her emotions were all muted and distorted, like light filtered through thick glass. She was shielding, too. Trying to keep him out. 

But she seemed to be enjoying herself, in a distant sort of way. She was sitting naked on the edge of the tub now, gleaming from head to toe, watching him test the water with one hand to see if it was warm enough.

There was a very encouraging trickle of sexual awareness coming from her.

“I never knew I could enjoy a man’s naked legs so much,” she murmured.

_Bloody hell._   “I’m… glad you like them.”

She was staring unabashedly. “Can I see your Jotun form again?”

He blinked at her, surprised and maybe just a tiny bit…touched. “Now?”

She nodded, amber gaze bright. A little too bright.

“What’s in it for me?” he said, just to put her off.

“Whatever you want.”

_Blessed Allmother_ , she didn’t even hesitate.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the tub and sinking into the water, he held out his arms. “Come on, your turn.”

She slid down directly into his lap, long limbs slick and soft against him. The bath was enormous–-easily big enough to fit three people–-so there was no reason for her to sit on top of him, but he let her stay there. Her round little bottom felt delicious tucked into his groin, and every inch of her was silky-soft.

“You’re already hard,” she said, shifting uncomfortably against his erection.

“You’re the one who wanted to sit on my lap.”

“I wasn’t trying to turn you on,” she replied defensively. “I thought this was a bath, not foreplay.”

Loki smiled. She was starting to sound like herself again.

“You were complimenting my legs a minute ago. And staring, I might add.”

“Pardon me. I’ll be more careful about my innocent compliments and appreciative looks from now on.”

He laughed. “Innocent, huh? That’s cute.”

She twisted to look back over her shoulder at him. “ _What’s_  cute?”

“You don’t have an innocent bone in your body.”

“I beg your pardon?” she gasped, in near-convincing mock affront. It was the hand to heart that gave it away.

He laughed again, maybe more in relief than anything. Maybe because he hadn’t really expected to be here again, with this woman naked and smiling in his arms.

“Stop laughing, you’re making me bounce.” She settled back against him, tipped her head to his shoulder and sighed deeply, giving him an unobstructed view of the water lapping around her breasts. “You never answered me about your Jotun form.”

Her tone was languid now. She slipped a little lower in the water, breasts floating, thighs sliding against his, one foot slipping between his ankles.

“I’m considering the price.”

“Aww, don’t make it gross,” she whined, head lolling against his shoulder.

“You said whatever I want. Opportunities such as this don’t come every day. It would be a shame to pass it up.”

She sighed. “Never mind. I’ll just close my eyes and pretend.”

Loki chuckled. “Is this some sort of fetish for you?”

“You are,” she replied lazily.

“ _I’m_  a fetish? Are you suggesting that I’m abnormal?”

“No, I’m saying the degree to which I am sexually attracted to you is abnormal.” There was a smile in her voice.

“Judicious choice of words. Still, somehow, not particularly flattering.”

She giggled. “How about we play for it?”

“Play for what?”

“Jotun Loki.”

“Ah, of course. Are you challenging me to a game of cards?”

She nodded. “If I win, you do Jotun Loki for as long as I want.”

“Alright. If I win, you say the words.”

She went very, very still. “What words?”

He bent, placed a single kiss on the naked skin of her shoulder and murmured, “You know the ones.”

She swallowed audibly.

Loki waited, willing his heart not to pound. Knowing she could feel it.

“How will you know if I mean it when I’d be saying it to pay a debt?” she asked seriously.

“Because… you wouldn’t agree to say it unless you meant it?”

“If that were true, I’d be admitting to it before you even have a chance to win, which kind of defeats the purpose.”

_Damn_. “I thought the purpose was all you can eat Jotun Loki.”

She kicked him in the shin.

“Ow.”

“How about this,” she turned and whispered in his ear.

The blood rushed low in his body. “Fair enough, but I get to be on top.”

 

* * *

 

 

You’re cheating,” she accused.

“So are you.”

They were on the freshly made bed, Loki sprawled on his side diagonally and Sig propped up against the pillows.

“I am not!”

“You’re using your breasts to distract me.”

“I’m  _what?_ ” Sig looked down at her chest, which was well-covered with a loose jersey t-shirt in coral pink. It was thin but perfectly opaque.

“And your legs.” He pointed. She wasn’t wearing pants.

“You’ve seen me in my underwear before.”

“I have,” he agreed. “Which is why you knew it would arouse me. And that shirt is clinging in all the right places.”

“Ridiculous.” She discarded and drew from the deck, ignoring his arch look, muttering, “Just because you can’t control your testosterone-crippled mind.”

“What was that?”

“I said your brain is swimming in man juices and it’s making you stupid!”

He burst into laughter, teeth flashing, eyes crinkling. “Is that why I’m winning?”

“No. You’re winning because  _you’re cheating_.”

He leaned forward, grinning wickedly. “Prove it.”

Sig opened her mouth to call for Mad, forgetting that the Tolok had gone–-that she wasn’t there anymore, watching everything, like a child spying on her parents’ dinner party.

Her throat tightened.

“What’s wrong?” Loki asked, picking up a card.

He actually didn’t know, she realized. They’d kept the bond subdued since her little bout of shock. It was nice not to be worried what he might read from her-–what he might feel. Although…was there really anything left to hide?

He was watching her with sharp blue-green eyes.

“I was thinking about Mad,” she said. “I forgot for a minute that she’s not here.”

He hadn’t expected her to be so honest. It was clear on his face. “She said she would be back, you know.”

“Yeah, you told me.” Sig looked at her cards. He really was cheating. She was going to lose.

“You don’t believe it?”

“Oh, I believe it. She might come back in a week, or in twenty years. Or in a hundred. You can’t really count on a Tolok to be punctual unless you give them a specific point of reference.”

“What will you do?” he asked quietly.

Sig shrugged. “Dunno. Probably something stupid.”

“Such as?”

“Did you know there’s a planet in Sector 9 that’s run by a guy who calls himself King of Aces? Their entire commerce is gambling. I hear they don’t say no to anything. You can bet a bag of fingernail clippings and somebody will take you on.”

“That does sound like something stupid to do.” He smiled.

“There’s a vacation spot called Paradisus in that sector, too. The entire planet’s a tropical resort. They have a different island for every flavor and level of debauchery.”

“Mm. You’ve put some thought into this.”

She shrugged. “Nothing lasts forever.”                       

That seemed to surprise him. “You expected her to leave?”

“Eventually. I mean, in the beginning, I certainly did. But Toloks have a sort of hive consciousness. They don’t do well with a solitary lifestyle.”

“So you bonded.”

She nodded. “By the way, did you-–” Hesitantly, she met his gaze, “–-ask her about Thor?”

“I did. He’s alive.”

Her sigh of relief surprised him, for some reason. 

“Alright, show me your hand,” he said brusquely, to cover the unexpected rush of tenderness that tightened his chest. 

She turned over her cards.

Loki grinned, turning over his own hand. “I win.”

He pounced on her before she could argue, taking hold of her naked legs and dragging her beneath him. She lay there with a martyred expression while he straddled her shins and ran his hands slowly up her thighs.

Her breathing was a little fast though.

“Sore loser?” he purred, hands slipping over her belly and under the edge of the t-shirt.

“Admit-–” her breath caught as he stroked her breasts, “-–that you cheated.”

“Or what?” he bent very slowly to kiss her, teasing her mouth while he waited for her answer.

“Or nothing. Just admit it.”

He chuckled, licked her lips. Pushed the shirt up over her breasts and looked down at her in challenge. “Admit that you love me.” He smiled wickedly and bent to suckle her breast.

“Fine,” she said, exasperated, a little breathless. “I love you.”

Stunned, he pulled back, braced above her on his arms. “ _What?_ ”

She blinked, laughed. “You look surprised.  _Why_  do you look surprised?”

He just stared at her for several heartbeats, utterly speechless. Hard, painful heartbeats. 

Then he felt her prodding through the bond, trying to read him. He withdrew instantly–-threw up all his shields.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” she pouted, with just a hint of actual hurt in her voice.

“You want fair?” he said hoarsely, throat tight.

“Yeah, I–- _oh!_ ” Her eyes widened. And then her mouth curved in a smile that warmed him to his toes. Her hands came up and cupped his face, fingers tracing the ridges along his cheekbones, across his brow.

“Hello, Jotun Loki,” she murmured.

He bent to kiss her again, vibrating with emotion, suddenly desperate. She was lifting his shirt, soft hands stroking his spine, slipping around his ribs to caress his chest. He let her pull the shirt off and then sat back so he could lift her legs and remove her underwear. Then he was pulling her closer, spreading her legs and positioning them around his hips, gaze focused on the pink lips of her sex.

“Wait, slow down,” she said when he started tearing at the placket of his trousers. Her legs curled around him as she took hold of his arms and pulled him down until he was braced over her on all fours. “Let me enjoy this.”

“Oh you’ll enjoy it,” he growled, practically throbbing with the desire to be inside her.

She stroked her hands up his arms, across his shoulders, tracing his Jotun markings, amber eyes bright with pleasure. And then her gaze was searching his face, drinking him in. She stroked her thumb across his lips and there was such heat and emotion in her eyes that his resistance crumbled. The bond flowered, opened.

Her feelings came to him in a warm rush and he buckled under them, groaning.

By all the Gods, she really  _did_  love him.

She was kissing him now in a slow, wet glide, and he let her control it because he couldn’t do anything else; he was frozen, helpless–-drowning under the wave of her feelings.

Sig kissed him and kissed him, and he moaned around her tongue, felt her hands sliding down his belly, opening his trousers.

The low sound of appreciation she made as she took his cock into her hands was incredibly gratifying. She palmed him gently, marveling at how hard he was, how smooth.

Then she broke the kiss to look down between their bodies and her desire to suck him communicated loudly through the bond.

Heart pounding with anticipation, he stretched out beside her on the mattress. She rose and peeled his trousers off, then straddled his legs, soft hands following the ridges on this thighs until she reached his hips.

The hem of her pink shirt had fallen down over her chest and he reached for it, hungry for the sight of those perfect breasts. She let him pull it off and then sat still for a moment while he looked at her, allowing him to lift both breasts in his palms and roll them gently. It was strange to see his Jotun flesh so blue against her whiteness. A little discomforting. Oddly erotic.

Then she pulled back, looking at his cock, reaching for it–-sliding down to lay along his thighs until her face was above his groin. She stroked him with one hand, the fingers of her other curling sweetly around his hip.

“Pink,” she murmured, bending to kiss the head. She liked it--the color of his sex. The way it faded from azure along the shaft to a deep, hungry pink near the head.

She took him into her mouth and he heard himself make a rasping, animal sound of pleasure. His awareness broke down to a series of vivid sensations. Wet heat and suction. The soft rasp of her tongue. Fingers gripping his shaft, gliding upward. Her nipples pulling tight against his naked thighs.

Enjoying the taste of him, she dipped her tongue into the slit at his tip, aroused by the way his belly quivered and his chest expanded in reaction to each caress. Titillated by the way he flexed in her mouth, by the sensation of his blood rushing under her lips.

She let go of his shaft and slid her fingers into the black curls at its base, then cupped his sac and made him shudder. All the while she sucked him in a slow, languorous rhythm, until his balls pulled tight against his body, orgasm building at the base of his spine.

“ _Sig_ ,” he warned hoarsely.

_Do you want me to drink it?_  she murmured into his mind, sucking harder, stealing his breath.

_I want to fuck you_ , he growled.

_We can do both_.

He looked down his body at her. She was sucking him deeply, eyes closed, expression almost…beatific.

He grabbed her shoulders and yanked her up, watching his cock pop out of her mouth, her eyes snapping open as he flipped her over and pushed between her legs.

“Loki–“ she started, eyes glazed, lips puffy and pink from sucking him.

He thrust into her and then froze, her cry loud in his ears, pleasure rippling along his spine. He was teetering on the edge of orgasm.

“This is going to be fast,” he rasped. She was wet and tight as ever. And  _hot_ , so bloody hot.

She nodded, hair fanned around her head, face flushed. Her legs tightened on his hips and held him.

Loki looked down at his cock–-at the pink lips of her sex furled around him. He braced himself on one extended arm and brought his other hand to her clit, circled it with his thumb, blue skin bright against her swollen flesh.

Whimpering, she lifted herself, rolled her hips in a long, sinuous undulation. Electrified, he began to thrust, still working her clit with his fingers, watching her rise to him in perfect rhythm.

“Gods,” he groaned, “ _Ah–-Sig!_ ”

She’d tightened around him, flexing deliberately.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he rasped, freezing in an attempt to abort the looming orgasm.

“Do it.” She rolled her hips again.

Abruptly he pulled out, yanked her hips up off the mattress-–ignoring her cry of dismay–-and fastened his mouth onto her sex, thrusting his tongue between her folds.

“ _Loki–-ah–-wait!_ ” she bucked, shuddering, her own orgasm rising quickly. He licked upward, worked her clit in tight little circles, bringing her right to the edge and then letting go, watching the flush that crept down her neck to her chest.

Her thighs clamped around his head and he pried them off, laughing wickedly as he pinned them under his arms and lifted her again, bowing her spine with his forearms under her hips.

“ _Loki_ ,” she cried again, as he returned to sucking her, this time with unwavering determination.

Her first orgasm nearly brought him, even without her touch on his cock. Sig’s pleasure crackled across his senses, stole his breath, made him feel wild.

Hot on the heels of her pleasure came a wave of emotion. It struck him like a physical blow. Sigyn’s love.

Loki drank it hungrily, clutching her, sucking her with renewed passion, suddenly determined to make her come again-–to make her wild with it. As wild as she made him.

She jerked and trembled under the onslaught–his touch and his feelings.

“ _Loki_ ,” she begged, wanting him inside.

Without words, he told her what he intended. Showed her the images in his mind-–her body writhing under him, orgasm after orgasm. His mouth, his tongue and fingers, over and over, until she was mindless with it.

Only then would he fuck her.

She laughed hoarsely, helplessly.  _That won’t take long._

Grinning, he yanked her closer, letting her hips come to rest in his lap. She looked down at his cock standing up between her legs. Her reaction to the sight was a bright surge of lust. Loki’s hands were already between her legs, fingers slipping inside, rubbing and stroking relentlessly.

He brought her twice more that way, and she let him. Her submission was deeply gratifying–-nearly as gratifying as the pleasure she took, the pleasure she shared. Each orgasm pulsed between them, longer and larger than the one before. She positively  _ached_  to have him inside. The sounds she made drove him crazy; soft, helpless sounds. Animal sounds.

He  _felt_  like an animal, feasting on her body.

With mouth and tongue, he brought her once more, fingers flexing deep inside her, watching her face grow slack, her eyes unfocused. The flush had crept all the way down her chest and her breasts were bright with it. Pink and hot. He cupped one with his free hand and pulled the nipple until she whimpered.

“How many was that?” he demanded, in a voice that made her shiver and clench around his fingers.

She shook her head, eyes nearly closed. Her thoughts were muddy, intoxicated.

_Perfect._

Loki’s own thoughts were a hot, hungry blur. He pulled his fingers out of her, rubbed her wetness onto his cock, then mounted her and thrust inside.

Sig’s consciousness rippled and blossomed with satisfaction, thoughts bleeding into his until he wasn’t sure whose were whose.

He felt so good inside her. Broad, deep. And she was incredibly wet. Rippling open in welcome. Loki plunged into her, nudged her cervix. Felt the little pain it gave her. Felt her enjoyment of the sensation and gritted his teeth against the desire to batter her with his thrusts.

She lifted herself in encouragement, welcoming his aggression, loving the violence of his lust. Thirsty for the dark, possessive feelings lurking behind his hunger.

Loki surrendered the last scraps of his self-control and rode her in a passionate fury, driving her back across the mattress until she braced herself with both hands on the headboard and lifted herself to him in complete abandon.

Every lunge brought a ragged cry from her, and she screamed as the orgasm took them, letting go of the wall to grip his shoulders and dig her nails into his flesh. Pleasure blasted their senses in a searing rush of light and fire, all of it coursing–- _burning_  with Sig’s love.

Something broke inside him at that moment–-some inner barrier he hadn’t known was there. A construct that had been part of him for most of his life. 

A shield that cracked and crumbled, pressed from both sides by need and emotion.

In the aftermath of that destruction, the Fidelity bond solidified into something entirely new. Suddenly everything Sig gave to him reflected back on an outpouring from the inner recesses of his being; all the love she offered redoubled and returned. All her hunger, all her need, her vulnerability. Everything mirrored, everything met, like for like.

It was the worst, most agonizing, most terrifying experience Loki could have ever imagined.

It tore him apart. Broke him down. Completely undid him.  

And then remade him again.


	15. Epilogue

_1 year later_

Sig found him in the nightclub of the central casino on Solas 9. He was sitting on the dais in the VIP section just beyond the stage, sprawled lazily on a huge, gilt-trimmed throne with the words ‘King of Aces’ carved elaborately on the high back. The damned thing had actual jewels inlaid into the lettering.  

He wore a green silk robe with thick, gold-embroidered trim at the neck and cuffs, a gold silk shirt tucked into tight black leather pants, and a pair of glossy pointed black boots. The shirt and robe hung open, exposing his upper chest and a heavy gold chain around his neck.

He looked ridiculous.

 _Dammit._  No, he didn’t. He should have. Instead, he looked decadent and sexy.

Sig stood in the shadows at the edge of the dark room and watched him hungrily. His hair had gotten long and he’d let it curl. It hung in a glossy cascade around his shoulders, thick and inky black.

She squeezed tight on their bond, not wanting him to sense her there. Needing to simply drink him in.

There were half a dozen people sitting on cushioned velvet couches around him, talking and drinking, but his attention was on the woman perched on the broad arm of the throne beside him.

The beautiful, leggy blond in the skimpy silver dress.

He was smiling at her lazily. The woman leaned down to say something directly into his ear, presumably to be heard over the loud thrum of the music. She was also using the opportunity to give him an unobstructed view of her cleavage.

And  _of course_ , he looked. Smiled a slow, flirtatious smile. Said something that made the woman giggle like a teenage girl.

_Oh, for god’s sake._

Sig turned and left the nightclub, passing through the wide double doors and into the brighter, more chaotic atmosphere of the casino itself.

She scoped the staff and picked out one of the suited security guards--a young-looking fellow with the nervous air of a new recruit–-and asked him where the ‘king's’ private rooms were.

She had no idea what race the man was; his skin was smooth and grey, hairless, eyes vivid green, with oblong pupils like a horse. In any case, he was certainly receptive to the smile she flashed and the suggestive quality of her inquiry.

He gave her a considering look, head to toe. The snug leathers and flight jacket seemed to give him pause. “Is my Lord expecting you, miss?”

“No,” she did her best simper, “I was hoping to surprise him.”

He looked at her clothes again, with open skepticism. “Well, you are his type, miss, but if you don’t mind my saying so, you may wish to change into something  a little more…” He coughed politely. 

Clearly, ‘my lord’ had a reputation with the ladies. Sneaking unknown women into his private rooms did not seem unusual to his security staff. In fact, the man seemed eager to accommodate her, probably in anticipation of gaining favor with his beloved ruler.

“I understand you perfectly–-um, what’s your name, sweetheart?” Sig touched his lapel very lightly and he flushed a little.

“Geon, miss.”

“Geon, thank you,” she smiled broadly. “Perhaps you know where I can get a dress of which my lord would approve? I’d be happy to put in a good word for you with the King if you’d be so kind as to help me get his attention…?”

Geon smiled a wide, boyish smile. “Yes, I think I can help you, miss.”

                                               

* * *

 

 

Loki felt her presence the moment he opened the outer door to his chambers. The room was dark, which was unusual. The servants should have been through to prep for his nightly return.

“Lights,” he said.

She was sitting in his favorite leather armchair, facing the door, legs crossed elegantly at the knee.  

His heart did a funny little dance in his chest. She was a  bright spot of color in the enormous white room–-gold and green against a winter landscape. Like the spirit of spring come to thaw the ice and snow.

Slowly, he closed the door and leaned back against it, crossing his arms as he took her in.

“That’s a new look,” he murmured, giving her his best trickster smile.

She was wearing a dress in the style so favored by the women on this planet: slinky, shimmering, low-cut. He allowed himself a slow perusal, blood heating.

“The color suits you,” he purred.

It was green. His green. So were the strappy little heels she wore.

“Your guards wouldn’t let me in unless I looked the part,” she said, amber gaze cool.

No, it was icy.   _Shit._

“Are you still angry that I left?” he murmured provocatively. “I did say goodbye, if you’ll recall.”

He held her gaze until he saw that she did recall that goodbye, then he let his voice drop an octave and added silkily, “Rather thoroughly, in fact.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t give me that seductive look. You were supposed to meet  me on Paradisus  _weeks_  ago.”

She really was angry. Which, rather inconveniently, only turned him on more. “I may have gotten sidetracked,” he replied, attempting to sound apologetic.

“Sidetracked,” she repeated flatly.

“Yes…”

“You staged a coup and dethroned the so-called King of this ridiculous planet.”

He held up a finger, “Solas is actually registered as a legitimate monarchy. And… it was more of a flash rebellion than a coup.”

She waved him away with one hand, rolling her eyes. “I don’t even want to know.”

“I did rather expect you to come after me sooner,” he admitted. “I may have gotten a bit carried away. This planet is…”

“Seedy? Disgusting? Teeming with leggy blonde prostitutes?”

Ah. She’d been to the club. “That woman was not a prostitute,” he said defensively. “She’s a dancer. One of my best performers.”

Sig’s left brow arched sharply on the word “my.”

 _Damn_. Loki came away from the door and crossed the room to her. She looked up at him from under her brows in warning.  

“Did you sleep with her?” she asked very softly. Dangerously.

Her jealousy was more than a little gratifying, though he was careful not to show it.

“You ought to know the answer to that,” he replied, shrugging out of his robe and tossing it towards the couch without looking. “However, I do have a reputation to uphold as the King of this little den of iniquity.” He looked down at her legs, which were wonderfully exposed by the high slit of the dress.  “I can’t very well be seen rejecting the advances of beautiful women–-at least not in public.”

Her lips compressed, twisted slightly. He tested the bond, got nothing but a trickle of her irritation. Time to switch tactics.

“I really do like this new look of yours.” He murmured. Her breasts were mouthwatering, draped in that silky green fabric, her nipples clearly delineated. “And the tan.”

She’d picked up a rich golden glow on Paradisus.

“Do you have tan lines?” he asked.

Some of the ice drained out of her demeanor–-no doubt due to the fact that he was sporting an erection, which he made absolutely no effort to hide.

“No,” she said, just a touch sullen.

She let the bond open.

_Sweet Mother of–-_

It was there in her mind. Pictures that made his blood sizzle in his veins. Sig, lying naked in the sun. Swimming naked in crystal clear tropical waters. Sprawled on a big bed in a private bungalow, limbs very gold against the white sheets. Thinking about him. Wanting him.  _Waiting_  for him.

 _Shit_.

“I…may owe you an apology,” he began sheepishly.

“You think?” she looked up and there was a gleam of real hurt in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it.

She actually pouted a little, which was very uncharacteristic–-and therefore all the more indication that he had royally fucked up.

He sank to his knees and scooted close to her, running his hands up her silky, silky legs.

“Oh, my beloved Goddess of Fidelity,” he murmured in a tone of reverence, “Please accept this sacrifice,” he bent and kissed her tenderly just above the knee. “In the name of the Allfather, and of the Allmother,” he tugged her legs apart and trailed kisses upward along her inner thigh. “Please, oh heavenly goddess, be merciful.” He looked up at her in adulation. “Please forgive me.”

Her mouth quirked. “You suck at this.”

Loki smiled slowly. His hands slipped under the dress and gripped her naked hips. “If sucking is what you require…”

“What? Loki,  _no_.”

He yanked her down in the chair and made her squeak in surprise. The position forced her legs to part around his body and left him kneeling between her open thighs.

“No undergarments,” he said, on a surge of lust. “How convenient.”

“Hey, I’m still mad at you,” she scowled at him, gripping his forearms arms with both hands.

“You’re not exactly fighting me off, though,” he replied wickedly, bending to take her into his mouth.

She gasped.

Loki decided to dispense with the teasing and sucked her in the way he knew would bring her the fastest. She squirmed in the chair and clenched her thighs around him, senses bombarded, heat and hunger flowing to him through the bond.

Yanking her down farther, he pulled at the neck of the dress until one of her breasts popped free of the loose fabric. She was extra sensitive today–-perhaps because it had been so long. She made a delightful mewling sound when he palmed her breast and squeezed it gently.

The bond expanded. Passion had overridden temper. She wanted his mouth where his hand was and his cock inside her. The thought came crystal clear to him as she rolled her hips, pushing her sex into the wet-hot suction of his mouth.

 _Once like this first, sweetheart. Then I’ll ride you to your heart’s content,_  he promised.

 _Fingers,_  she cried in a low, intoxicated whisper.

 _Shh. Not this time._  He sucked her harder, made her cry out.  _It’s been so long. I want to feel how tight you are._

They’d been apart for weeks at a time in the past year, though never for quite this long. The first joining after such an absence was always incendiary. It was half the reason Loki kept leaving. That and perhaps-–if he was completely honest with himself–-because he wanted to see if she would take him back each time. If her feelings would falter in his absence.

They never did. In fact, they only seemed to grow. 

Which was, much to his consternation, a completely mutual phenomenon.

Loki pinched her little nipple, rolled and pulled it, feeling how the two pleasures connected inside her like electrical currents. He sent her an image of how she looked to him, her dress rucked up and twisted around, face flushed, nipple bright and pink between his fingers. She shuddered and gasped.

He sent her images of what he wanted to do to her, too. Imagined bending her over the back of the couch, the sweet curves of her ass turned up to him, the mouth of her sex stretched around his cock.

She came on a high, reedy scream and he had to hold her down with both hands to keep his mouth in place while she bucked and shuddered against him.

“That was delightful,” he said when she had settled, sitting back to look at her. “Forgive me now?”

She nodded, eyes closed, slumped in the chair like a drunk. “Don’t ditch me like that again.”

“Your wish is my command.”

She snorted.

Smiling, Loki looked at her naked breast, at the bright, swollen lips of her sex. He took off one of her shoes and brought the warm curve of her foot to his groin, sighing with pleasure at the contact. She opened her eyes and looked down at him lazily.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” she said thickly.

He unzipped the leather trousers and took himself in hand, still looking at her and holding her foot against his hip. Her gaze dipped to his sex and she watched him stroke himself, pupils dilating with lust.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked.

“Nothing, I’m just trying to decide how I want you.”

Her brows rose. “Not over the couch?”

“Mm. Maybe.” He looked at her naked sex again. Released her foot and touched the open lips with his free hand, thumb gliding slowly against the glossy flesh.

She watched him for a moment, and then she kicked off her other shoe and lifted her legs, tucking her feet onto the edge of the chair, one on either side of her bottom, spreading herself wide to him.

Loki sucked in a breath and took hold of her legs. “Sig…Jesus.”

She giggled. “Its funny to hear you using Earth expressions.”

But Loki wasn’t amused. In fact, he wasn’t evening listening. He was looking down at the head of his cock as he positioned himself on his knees and pushed between the glistening folds of her sex.

They moaned together as he filled her, Loki still looking down, watching until his entire length was buried inside her.

“Oh God,” she whimpered. “That’s…”

 _Tight._  Loki thought wildly.  _Good. So good._

It was hurting her a little, despite how wet she was. Something about the position, and the fact that is had been a little over a month since they’d last been together.

He looked down at her, folded tightly in the chair beneath him. Bent and kissed her deeply.

“Loki,” she murmured when he released her. “Please, fuck me.”

He groaned. She knew what it did to him, to hear such words. He gripped her thighs and held her legs back hard as he started thrusting, kissing her again at the same time. Devouring her.

She came within minutes, keening and reaching around her legs to clutch at his hips. He rode her harder as the orgasm radiated along the bond, and every thrust brought the tip of his cock straight to the mouth of her womb.

As her orgasm faded, she reached between their bodies, touched the place where his cock pistoned inside her, fingers curling loosely around his shaft. Her grip made his thrusts shallower by necessity, but the extra stimulation of her fingers was delicious.

Even more than that was the stimulation of her thoughts. She wanted to feel him going in. Liked to touch the stiff column and feel her own wetness on him. Relished the pleasure she gave him and the low, urgent sounds he made.

Gods, how he loved this–-loved  _her_.

“Sig,” he rasped, pleasure tightening his balls. “ _Coming!_ ”

She gripped the base of his cock and made him gasp. He pumped into her hand, into her pussy, floored by the combined sensations, by the heady mix of lust and love she emitted.

“ _Come_ ,” he demanded roughly. “ _Come with me_.”

To his surprise, she cried out almost immediately, fisting around him, every muscle in her body tightening as he rode out his own orgasm in a series of uncontrolled lunges.

When it was over he pulled her hand away and buried himself to the hilt, nudging her cervix again. Stretching her. Making her clench.

He was leaning on her heavily, breathing hard into her neck. Rocking slowly into the still-fluttering grip of her sex. One of her feet slipped off the chair and he lifted it up again, not wanting to lose the incredible closeness the position afforded.

“Why have we never tried this position before?” he asked, breathless. “That was fantastic.”

“Mm,” she curled her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled his ear, flexing around him. “Do it again.”

He chuckled. “Give me a few minutes.”

Her only response was to put her hands in his hair and gently scrape his scalp with her fingernails. He turned his head to kiss her languidly, suddenly swamped by how intensely he had missed her the last few weeks.

“Is the King ready to abdicate?” she murmured when he broke away.

“Mmm.” He kissed her some more before withdrawing. “Do you really think this planet is disgusting?”

“I did when I thought you were screwing that dancer.” She tugged his shirt up and he lifted his arms so she could take it off him. “It’s actually quite decadent.”

“For your information, that poor girl could never meet my standards.” Pulling back to look down at her body, at his cock still wedged inside her, he murmured, “You’ve ruined me for other women.”

Her breath caught as he gave her a long, leisurely thrust.

“Have I really?” she replied, with genuine surprise. “That’s gratifying to hear.”

He thrust again–-a slow, languid movement–-and she closed her eyes, lips parting on a sigh of pleasure. “I suppose that’s the closest I’ll ever come to a profession of genuine commitment on your part,” she said breathlessly.

Loki stilled. “I wasn’t aware you required such a thing.”

“I don’t,” she opened her eyes to give him a heavy-lidded look of encouragement. “Keep moving.”

He picked up thrusting again, rocking slowly. “But you do want that.”

“Mmm?”  she was starting to look unfocused. She stroked his arms and watched his abdomen flex with glowing appreciation. “I want everything you’ve got.”

“I’m not sure we’re talking about the same thing anymore,” he said, withdrawing for another long, slow stroke into her body.

“Why are we talking at all?”  She made a hoarse little sound of pleasure as he nudged her cervix. Damned if she wasn’t getting close again already.

“It is nice, occasionally,” he replied, watching her face go slack as the pleasure mounted. “It’s something couples frequently do, or so I’ve heard.”

She didn’t respond and he simply rocked for a while, letting the pleasure build, thrust by thrust. Kissing and touching. Every movement slow and sweet as molasses.

“This is definitely my new favorite position,” he murmured, listening to her ragged breath. “You’re so sensitive.”

She moaned, slapped his chest with one hand. “For god’s sake, Loki, move  _faster_.”

He lifted her legs up over his shoulders and held her there, pumping a little harder, kissing the upper curves of her breasts, the base of her throat, dipping his tongue into her mouth.

“You are making the sweetest little sounds right now,” he said darkly. “Makes me want to do something depraved.”

“Oh?” she panted, “Like what?”

Smiling devilishly, he pulled completely out and drove himself home again, straight to the hilt.

Sig cried out sharply, grasping his upper arms, nails digging into his skin.

“So sweet,” he growled, pulling out again.

“Please,” she gasped, eyes heavy-lidded, face flushed. “You’re going to kill me.”

He thrust home.

“ _Ah!_ ”

“Again?” He was nearing his own limit now.

She nodded. He leaned down to kiss her as he withdrew and she shook her head. “I want to see your face when you come.”

That did it. Suddenly aroused to the point of madness, he started thrusting rapidly–-still pulling almost completely out, driving home with barely contained aggression. Holding her gaze as she began to bow and spasm beneath him.

Sig locked tight under a cascade of pleasure and Loki tumbled after her, orgasm stripping away everything but the woman in his arms: her amber eyes, her cries, her pleasure, the hot grip of her sex.

_Love you… God… love you so much…_

The words radiated along the bond and Loki drank them straight into his heart, his soul.  Poured his answering feelings back to her wordlessly. Felt her take them.

 _Mine_ , he thought fiercely.  _Say you’re mine._

“Yes,” she whispered, pulling him down to kiss her as the pleasure ebbed. “Yes.”

                                               

* * *

 

 

He carried her to the bed at some point. Stripped her down and made love to her leisurely on the white satin sheets.

She really didn’t have any tan lines, and her skin was the color of honey. She’d gained a little weight since he’d seen her last. There was a softness about her hips and thighs that made him feel like a beast.

“Why do you keep biting me like that?” she asked, and the question was muffled because she had flung both arms over her face in the aftermath of their last orgasm.

Lying sprawled halfway across her legs, Loki looked down at his teeth marks on her inner thighs and said, “You taste good.”

“I taste the same as always.”

He bent and bit her on the hip hard enough to make her squeak. “Sweeter.”

“You taste the same,” she returned mildly.

He crawled up her body and laid directly on top of her, pushing her arms away from her face and pinning them gently to the bed so he could kiss her.

“You’re squishing me,” she mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Mmm,” he kissed her again, “Do you want to go back to Paradisus?”

She shook her head. “You’re a king now. You have a responsibility to your subjects. It would be selfish of me to take you away from them just because I want to screw you on a tropical beach.”

Loki smiled. She didn’t mean a damned word of it–-except the part about screwing.

“Sarcasm,” he said dryly, “Charming.” 

“You love it.” She squirmed under his weight and he slid off of her. Her arms came down and she rolled toward him, snuggling into his chest.

Loki still marveled sometimes at how natural it felt to put his arms around her. To be tender. Affectionate.  _Loving._ Her adoration still floored him, too. He kept waiting for her to just wake up one day and realize she didn’t want him anymore. 

She was too good to be true, really. She’d never asked for more than he offered. Never once turned him away when he reached for her. Never failed to forgive him for his…less than admirable behavior. And now…

Sig kissed his throat and curled her arm over his waist, sighing with such contentment that he felt almost…  _giddy_.

“I don’t suppose you’d consider staying a while,” he suggested, keeping his voice casual. Heart jumping traitorously. “You’d make an excellent queen.”

“Of Aces?” she snorted. “You really ought to change the title. It’s ridiculous.”

He was quiet.

In a moment she pulled back, looked up into his face. “Was that a serious suggestion? You really want me to stay here and play queen to your king?”

“You did express a desire for commitment,” he replied carefully.

Her look of confusion shifted to one of shock. Disbelief.

She sat up, hair a wild blond cloud around her head, breasts bobbing, nipples red from his mouth and hands.

“Loki, was that supposed to be some kind of  _proposal_?”  Her eyes abruptly narrowed. He was shielding like hell. “This better not be a joke.”

“It was, in fact, a proposal,” he said stiffly.

The long silence that followed was filled with the sound of Loki’s heart beating wildly in his ears.

“A proposal of marriage,” she said finally–-like it was somehow the most improbable thing she’d ever heard.

“Yes.”

She watched his face intently. “Like,  _actual_ , legal marriage.”

Her skepticism made him bristle. Or maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t answered yet. “ _Yes_ , by all the Gods,” he grated, “It’s a simple enough concept.”

She didn’t react to his temper. Instead, she looked away, at the wall above the bed. At the dark window, the floor, blinking in shock the whole time.

Bitterness rose like an old enemy. Just as he opened his mouth to retract the offer she looked at him and said simply, “Alright.”

Loki blinked. “ _Alright?_ ” Was that it? Just Alright? 

His heart didn’t seem to care about the delivery though. It fluttered, rose.

“Yeah,” she said face solemn. “Alright.”

He sat up, temper evaporated, the first flush of elation buzzing along his nerve endings. “Yes. The word you’re looking for is yes.”

She smiled.  _Finally_ , she smiled. “Yes.”

On a surge of raw emotion, he reached for her.

“Congratulations, my Sigyn. My Loki.”

They both cursed and Loki snatched at the sheets, pulling them across his lap. Mad stood at the end of the bed, grinning from ear to ear.

“ _Mad!_ ” Sig cried, not bothering to cover herself. “So inappropriate!”

“I am sorry, my Sigyn. I waited until you were done copulating.”

“Tell me you weren’t watching,” Loki hissed, at the same time Sig said, “Don’t say  _copulating_.”

“I did not watch,” Mad replied politely. And then to Sig, “Is copulating not an acceptable term for what you were doing?”

“Oh my god. No, it just–-never mind,” Sig waved her away. “Where is my dress?”

Mad bent and picked it up off the floor. Loki glared at her as she brought it around the bed to Sig.

“Are you angry, my Loki?”

“That was a private moment,” he grated, still feeling the sting of vulnerability. The buzz of feelings yet unexpressed.

“You are embarrassed,” Mad replied in understanding.

Sig made a muffled sound that closely resembled laughter. Loki shot her a glare and found her in a tangle with the dress pulled halfway over her head.

“I am not embarrassed,” he growled, tugging the hem until the green fabric came unbunched and slid down into place.

“I am unfamiliar with marriage rituals,” the Tolok explained apologetically. “Toloks do not marry.”

“Right. No romantic attachments,” he muttered.

Sig paused in the act of smoothing her hair. “How do Toloks reproduce then?”

_Is this really what we’re going to talk about right now?_

Sig shot him a quelling look.

“Sexually,” Mad replied unabashedly. “Partnerships are chosen based on genetic compatibility, and the children are raised by the collective.” She bent to retrieve Loki’s pants and smiled brightly at him as she handed them over. “I am very excited to learn about non-Tolok marriage rituals and child-rearing.”

Sig made a little choking sound and Loki said, “ _Child-rearing?_ ”

“Mad, we’re not having children,” Sig interrupted before the Tolok could reply. “I’m sterile, remember?”

Mad smiled. “You are not, my Sigyn.”

Sig frowned. “I’m not.  _I’m not?_ ”

Mad shook her head.

“How do you know this?” Loki demanded.

“I studied the timelines. In some of them, Sigyn has children.”

Sig was floored. “If I’m not sterile, why haven’t I conceived in all this time?”

“I do not know for sure, my Sigyn. Perhaps the conditions were not correct.”

“Meaning?” Loki interjected.

“Sigyn’s heritage is mixed. She is more than simply Aldurian and Asgardian,” Mad shrugged. “Some species cannot procreate outside of specific environmental parameters.”

Sig held up both hands in denial. “I think I’m done with this conversation.”

Mad regarded her quizzically while Loki grappled with the new information.

“Mad,” he started, heart pounding anew, “Whose children does she-–”

“ _Don’t!_ ” Sig cried sharply, clamping her hand over his mouth. The other hand she held up towards the Tolok. “I really don’t want to know, alright?”

Loki tugged her hand from his mouth. “Why not?”

She sat back on her heels. “I–-because-–” she shrugged helplessly, “Some things are just better left unknown?”

Her emotions came to him in a tangle. Anxiety, hope, fear. 

What was she afraid of?

He looked at her and imagined her growing round with child. His child. It brought a rush of intensely possessive feelings. 

Then again, if there was another man in her future…

The thought turned his heart to stone. Abruptly, he understood her fear. Or at least, he hoped he did.

“Mad, get lost. I need to dress and…talk to Sig.”

Sig looked to the Tolok. “I’ll call you back in a little while okay? I want to hear how things have been going with the Tolok the last few weeks.”

Mad nodded happily and popped into the aether.

“Do  _not_  watch!” Loki called after her.

“What’s the matter?” said Sig, “Are you–- _eep!_ ”

Loki had her pinned to the bed in an instant. “I would like to consummate now,” he said darkly.

“Um, that usually happens after the wedding, Loki.”

“After, before, during,” he shrugged. “I’m going to consummate the hell out of you.” Grinning, he straddled her thighs and said, “Lift your hips.”

“ _During?_ ” she braced her hands on his arms, looking down between their bodies. “What are you do–- _ah!_ ”

He slid inside with a deep growl of satisfaction.

“How can you be this hard again already?” she asked breathlessly, watching.

The penetration was a bit shallow, but…he lifted her arms and held them above her head, thrusting hard. “It’s been a month,” he growled, “We’ve hardly taken the edge off.”

Pinned and helpless, Sig could only watch as he rode her, squirming against the pleasure of it, the domination. “Next time I get to be on top,” she panted.

The position made her throb all over with arousal, though. She could overpower him in an instant if she wanted to–-he had no illusions about that–-but she liked it when was he dominating. In fact, she liked everything he did to her.

“Would you want my child, Sig?” he asked roughly, watching her face.

She looked up at him, amber eyes already unfocused. “Huh?”

He thrust deep and withdrew. “You heard me.”

“Loki–- _ah!_ –-I already told you, I want everything you’ve got.”

“What if it looks Jotun?” he demanded.

She made that low keening sound he adored so much, struggling against him. “I love your Jotun looks–- _mmm–-ahh-_ –” she bucked, “ _God!_ ”

Glowing with satisfaction, Loki rode her in a hard, controlled rhythm until she cried his name, bowed sharply, and shattered.

“I love you,” he said fiercely, thrusting harder, rushing toward his own orgasm.

Her eyes widened and he realized, just as the orgasm took him, that he had never said the words aloud before.

When he lifted himself to look at her in the aftermath, her face was almost serene, but there were tears in her eyes.

“Say it again,” she said quietly.

His heart pounded. Ached. He swallowed hard.

“Don’t you dare argue,” she whispered. “Just say it.”

“I love you,” he replied gruffly.

“Now ask me properly.”

He balked for a moment. Relented. “Be my queen.”

She laughed and he bent to kiss her hungrily.

“You’re going to regret this, you know,” he said a moment later.

“You think so?”

He grinned. “At least once a day.”

“Hm. Well, that means you’re going to have to change my mind at least once a day.”

Laughing wickedly, he kissed her again, long and deeply. “I look forward to that.”

 

## End


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